Autumn Haibun
Along the Way .
. .
In the slant of the
rising sun the slight touch of dew glistens. The scent and taste
of morning coffee makes oppressive news headlines palatable.
This morning in my garden as I collect some zinnias to put in a
cut flower bouquet for my lover, I wake up some gypsy moths—they
can barely move. My cat, Max, chases a few, pawing, and batting
at them until they are no longer with us. Later, Max brings a
tiny shrew to me—of
course it too has joined ranks with former animal warriors. The
curve of the brick path is littered with yellow leaves from the
walnut tree where a squirrel chatters as it turns a black walnut
between its paws. In the distance the chime of the town clock on
the square. Above, in the clear blue sky, the silent con trail
billows behind a jet. I wave to the passengers . . .
every ending
heralds a new beginning
morning chill
will my lover arrive
in a pleasant frame of mind?
