Monsoon Haiku

and a haibun

first blossoms/the squirrels delight/apple cider vinegar.

venus hidden/the texted divorce/monarchs lost their way.

retrograde planets/first scent of rose/a silent prayer.

chewed off nails/tobacco stained/and there’s your smile.

wafting guitar/mockingbird screech/heartburn.

My writing mentor says, “Your real resource is you.”

Haibun from September 2020 still resonates

Sitting comfy in a warm bath while 2000 miles west, the lands are on fire. Outside, strong winds bring scent of smoke and skies of gray. There is collective experience happening. We are interdependent. Later still, eyes scratchy, throat parched and dry. The hummingbirds have drank nearly half the water in their bottle. Are they thirsty from the smoke filled air as well? I go through my own checklist in case of an emergency evacuation. Where’s the cat carrier? Should I buy a smaller one? Can I grab everything quickly for Cooper (food, bowls, leash)? What do I take with ? Make a list. Only the essentials. What is of most importance? Has value?

I am part of the trauma whether “living in it” or thousands of miles away.

Feeling the density of fear.
Who has time to mourn?

Throat scratches from smoke.
There is density in fear.
Hummingbirds are thirsty too.

There are complexities of emotions/Smoke has been set free.

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