Haibun: Braiding Stories
Among the flowers and grasses, tiny yellow-and-brown things with wings land and take off, take off and land. Should I be worried that I do not know their names? I lift one of the things from a flower stained with its excrement—so small to have made such a big mess! Looking at this nameless thing strips me of all notions of superiority. I know that the day is coming when my own stains will be concealed by the undertaker’s art. But that day can wait. I still have stories to braid.
A woman sleeping
on a green park bench wakes up,
stretching and yawning.
Posted on May 2, 2021, in 5-7-5, haibun, haiku, Poets & Storytellers United, The Whirligig and tagged braided, brown, flowers, grasses, lift, stained, strips, take, waited, wings, worried, yellow. Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.