Haibun
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Snapshot 07 December 02005
The pond is frozen over, fountain bubbling beneath a crown of thick ice. A friend brings food and a red poinsettia. She tells me bluebirds have returned to the river. This garden is a dance of sparrows, chickadees, finches, juncos ~ and each day, a visit from the hawk. I shop for long underwear and… Continue reading
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Snapshot 29 December 02004 – Tsunami
Montage-a-google|tsunami via Chasing Daisy It’s beyond comprehension. Each morning, the number grows: 22,000; 44,000, 58,000, 76,000 — This entire city, its booksellers, its bureaucrats, its shopkeepers, gone. Homes, grocery stores, apartment buildings, libraries, swept away. Its grandmothers, gardeners, carpenters, and all of its children, dead. Bodies in the broken streets. It’s beyond imagining. this morninga… Continue reading
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Snapshot 08 December 02004
Winter is hazardous. The world around my house is a sheet of ice, scattered with thin, dry snow. Windows bloom with frost, birch branches bare on the other side. I stay indoors, still stiff and sore from a fall two days ago. The dogs beg for a walk; they will not have one. Yesterday, the… Continue reading
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Snapshot 22 September 02004
Everyone is settling in for winter. Sparrows, chickadees and nuthatches fatten on autumn berries and my offerings. A neighbor who is moving to the edge of town (up the Rattlesnake) bear country, brings me squirrel and bird seed she cannot put out at her new home. This week the roof went up on another neighbors’… Continue reading
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Snapshot 04 August 02004
After a time, pain becomes defining, it becomes who you are: I am exhaustion. I am pain. One examines the philosophy, the sociology, the spiritual dimensions of pain. One attempts to escape it, tame it, defy it, deify it. Anything. Trying to retrieve dreams is like chasing bubbles; the moment you grasp them, they dissipate. … Continue reading
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