Friday, June 5, 2015


                                              A TASTE  OF HONEY

You expect to find that your childhood home is older.  You also find it smaller.  Duller.  The neighborhood is confined, insulated, a world unto itself.  You wouldn’t fit in even if it were ship-shape and clean of graffiti and rusting cars.  Even if there were neat plantings in front of each house and window boxes with flowers and children playing hop-scotch or roller skating on the sidewalks.  Even if the older folks sat on their front porches on a summer night and gossiped. You know it would not be your home anymore. 

                                                   the taste of honey
                                                   into nothing
Bottle Rockets, Winter 2014



Bill said...

Interesting how a haiku that is complete, and excellent, in itself assumes further layers in the haibun context. A model of the form, I'd say.

Adelaide said...

Thank you, Bill. High praise, indeed.


Gillena Cox said...

about 2 years ago, i went to where i first attended primary school, only to find no building only overgrown bush; the dissolve in your haiku is vivid indeed

hope you're keeping good

much love...

Adelaide said...

Thanks, Gillena, for visiting. It's sad to see places you loved in the past change to where they are no longer recognizable.