Haibun.

This is a haibun….pronounced: Hey Boo. LOL. It’s a very early Japanese literary form….say 1500 years old. First used by travelling monks and artists. It’s an interesting form…a short verse followed by a relatable haiku. Describes immediate phenom. but also personal thoughts.

My solitude shared,

night time crickets and an owl

the moon must approve

soft moonbeam filters dust motes

a thousand fish swim upstream-

It is late afternoon, winter by calendar, spring by temperament. The radishes have pushed above the dark soil, and look promising. Two cats and I are sitting on a retaining wall that retains nothing, except Madame Alfred Carriere and Graham Thomas. They both have climbed to the second story and are looking in the windows, watching us sleep. I am surrounded by budding nature, the canna lilies brush my thighs with tenderness, making room for me. I sigh and relax into the gathering dusk.

Last night I heard the wood owls. Their demonic chattering scared me into the chicken coop to stand guard with a rake, nervous as the hens. Now I know they are only six inches tall and can’t eat me.

When I die, I want my ashes scattered on this garden. Then, my ash-hands will caress the seedlings from below, my ash-heart will take pride in their growth, and my ash-ears will still hear those wood owls.

The moon is rising, a beggar’s cup too thin to fatten the soil. Mourning doves chant their benediction and swallows tumble like sickles in the failing light. The dark embraces all below.

I am healed from the day’s tribulations. The sounds of the urban give way to the enchantment of the Night.

-The soil our bed

Our classroom and our graves.

Reborn to the world.

-Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2017LikeCommentShare

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