Please note: All the images are mine and then sharpened and enhanced by Copilot.
Under the full moon’s watch, the Corellas turn the late afternoon sky into a jubilant parade.
The Full Moon and the Corellas(a Tanka)
I hear them squawking As they fly through my blue sky Those white Corellas May look very elegant But they sound like elephants
As a small tribute to Glen Hansard, whose music has long travelled beside me — a voice that rose and broke like birds in the late‑afternoon sky — here is his unforgettable performance of Bird of Sorrow.
Some days arrive quietly and leave a lasting tremor in the heart. Today was one of them. This finale 75th birthday wasn’t just a celebration of another year — it became a gathering of the people who have walked beside me through the most profound chapters of my life.
This group of friends is woven into every part of Carole’s story. They were there when she and I first met, full of hope and laughter. They were there when MS entered our lives forty‑four years ago, offering care, strength, and the kind of support that can only come from people who love without hesitation. Through three decades of Carole’s battle, they stood with us — not as visitors, but as family.
And even after Carole passed fourteen years ago, the thread didn’t break. Every three or four months, we gather to honour her astonishing life — her compassion, her grace, and that infectious smile that could soften any room. Today, on my birthday, that ritual became something deeper. It felt like a circle closing gently around memory, friendship, and the enduring presence of a woman who shaped us all.
The Crew, and my birthday Barbeque Apron present; a handcrafted gift by Dot … “Macbeth shall never vanquished be until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him.”
Everlasting (a Tanka)
This circle of friends, like a silver wedding ring, bright and long-lasting, lovingly loyal and strong — yet time does not weary them.
A tune for the long road we’ve walked together — still singing, still smiling. A journey that continues to be brightened by loyal friends.
Last night’s twilight carried a strange chromatic weight — colours deepening, clouds gathering, the horizon holding its breath. And on this cold winter evening, that same wintry mood returned and shaped the Tanka below
Twilight’s Chromatic Storm (a Tanka)
Dark Ominous clouds Growl along the horizon Then suddenly howl Over trees and open fields Dumping sharp, icy black pearls
And in the fading light, as twilight settles, the storm’s voice drifts into song.
As the sky softened into twilight, the colours opened my poetic picture book, and Ben Howard’s “Old Pine” drifted through the moment with the same quiet warmth.
The Weekend Challenge on Weekly Prompts is the word “Hell.” To visit their fabulous site, please click on >> Here … my Tanka today is a long way up beyond “Hell.”
Nature’s Iris (a Tanka)
A crimson twilight And a seductive sunset Is nature’s iris Unfolding my picture book Where my quiet poems rest
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 