BTT #64: Stream

water relfection hays




What are you

That would make me stop

And visit

On my walk

When it is so heavy hot

That even the bees

Seem languid

And the trees spreading

Some little

Bit of green

And cooling shade are closer

Than the time it takes

For just half

Of ‘Layla’ to play.

The sun is

Stretching out

And burns the skin left naked

By the boundary

In my hair

And furthermore there

Is nowhere

To sit but

Down here next to you and stare

And ask the question

What drew me

To your tiny bank

So small I

Could have bound

You fifty years ago with

Just two shakes of a

Toddler’s shanks?

Yet still, I am here.

I guess I

Never saw

You here before near the

Starting of the trail

I always

Hurry to get somewhere

And looping

Back later

Before the dark I wouldn’t

Rest my weary feet

Pacing to

Where the car is parked.

But today

You made me

Listen to your silent voice

And rustling of white

Weed something-

Or-others blooming

In snowy


And the lazy bending of

The grass showing the


Declension of your

Stream not so

Much downward

To the sinking past our view

As upwards

With unseen

Rivers returning

To that patch

Of lightened

Memory filling the large and

Sleeping field of blue.


Posted for dVerse Poetry Pub Prompt “Descriptive Detail”  hosted by Frank.  Join us there as we get down into the weeds.  The Heaven is is the details.  Here is the link:


Descriptive Detail


All rights for text and photos to Lona Gynt, September 2019.


water relfection hays
  Photo by Lona Gynt.

27 thoughts on “BTT #64: Stream

  1. Glenn A. Buttkus

    Every other day, while heading somewhere I’ve been countless times, something catches my eye, something being built, or torn down, a 1956 Packard parked in the shade next to a house, its patina sparkling, a pair of bison grazing in an empty lot. They say we use very little of our perceptual and cognitive abilities. As poets, I’d like to think we have trained ourselves to pay attention to details. As a photographer, I take it a step further.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That reply is in itself is full of descriptive detail and feels like a wonderful prose poetry Glen, but a Haiku on the end and you are ready for one of the Haibun Mondays. We do live far outside our license as humans in noticing the beauties in the little corners and brooks as well as the wonder in the vault of heaven. I heard a quote once that poetry is the fastest way to get from this shit to the stars… well sometimes this “shit” the mundane little everyday beauties are so overpowering in their voice and spectrum and nuance that the stars are just left sparkling in jealousy. The little things, right?


  2. I’m always amazed when I really notice something I must have seen over and over again without it registering in my consciousness. And it does lead somehow to a slowing of time as the details fill in the space that has been left empty in the past. I love the leisurely pace too. Hurry is a great distraction to seeing. (K)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. yes! that bit of yours about time here is very true. There is a universe in a grain of sand and eternities in a moment. Those moments of stillness are beautiful and connected. I must remember this…

      ” does lead somehow to a slowing of time as the details fill in the space that has been left empty in the past.”

      Thank you for that.

      Liked by 1 person

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