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Haibun: Easter Meal


The anchovies on the pizza were too salty, and I’m desperately thirsty. I keep trying to drink some water, but the table wobbles and it’s hard for me to pick up the glass. I never expected to be eating alone in a sad café on a chilly Easter Sunday. Through the dirty window an almost biblical scene unfolds: sheep grazing on lush grass. A shepherd has led them there. It’s so restful to watch that I close my eyes for a moment. But the impatient water prods me back to awareness by snapping out a single word: “Finished?”
 

On a windy day
the white dove loses her song
somewhere on the way.

 

Haibun © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher 

 

New Ways

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~~ 1 ~~
 
bitter memory—
the night he broke her left arm
with a baseball bat
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
how an egret stands
on one leg, then the other
at the water’s edge
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
father of the bride
taking out his handkerchief
to dab at his eyes
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
first month of the year—
trying to find a new way
though she keeps stumbling
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
building a new nest—
the mice in the dead man’s shoes
tying up loose ends
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
smashing the last plate
in her mother’s collection
to vent her anger
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
ordinary rope
tying loose ends together
in a sacred knot
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
a brown serape
pulled tight across his shoulders—
old man shivering
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
first weeks of the year—
in her trembling hands a rope
to steady her way
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
old men playing chess
on a chilly afternoon
fumbling every move
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
trying to sort out
the logic of a young crow
that spurns fresh road kill
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
with trembling fingers
she tries to untie the wind
tangled in the oak

 
Haiku © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
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More Sunday’s Whirligig #42