Possibilities: A Haibun

by Dawn L. Stewart

Rain-swelled waters carve new twists in the once mild-mannered creek. White-capped water breeches muddied bank. Not even the mallard ducks dare swim amid mini whirlpools. Another branch shoots the rapids, and I wonder if I were that twisting twig, where would the waters carry me?

storms test weak structures
prune tree rot, scour earth air
nature’s housecleaning

Waters recede after saturating the ground until it can hold no more liquid. Like a wick, the cement foundation drinks water from the too-full earth. Streams snake across the cellar floor. A pond is born. If I were a frog, would I choose to live in an indoor cement pond instead of resting on wild lily pads?

fireflies flicker
dancing joy to cricket song
electric display

Daffodil and crocus lift rain-drenched blossoms to catch warmth. Sun worshipers, daffodil trumpets herald sol’s sky transit, twisting to follow its path. A bee hovers to sip nectar, zooming from flower to flower. Like Icarus, with wings to soar, how close to the sun dare I fly without burning?

adventure beckons
tantalizing unknown path
enter the abyss

© 2001 Dawn L. Stewart

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied or used in any way without written permission from the author.

 

Back to Previous Article	Return to Writing Links

 Journey to the Interior: American Versions of Haibun

Haiku Moment: An Anthology of Contemporary North American Haiku