Haibun

                                    THE GHOSTS OF BENNETT COLLEGE              

 

                                                            forgotten field–

                                                            purple loosestrife

                                                            catches the wind

 

It stands decomposing a little more each day.  With the passing seasons, wind, rain, snow, sleet, and sun have rendered their work on the walls of wood and stone.  Vacant for decades.  Once a hotel, built in 1893, a weekend respite for city folk who wanted the country air.  In 1907 a women’s finishing school and college until its closing in 1978

 

Structured in the style of Adirondack lodges, it boasted 200 rooms, wide verandas under stone archways, restful gardens and rambling paths. It gave life to the small farming community. 

 

Now, just a relic at the entrance to the village, sinking lower into the dirt.  Unchecked nature has taken over the gardens; vandals have plundered whatever could be plundered.

 

The eager faces and voices of students, the laughter and talk, the weighty discussions and gay parties.  Now only in old photos and some memories.

 

                                                                  swirling fog           

                                                                  the shadowy movement         

                                                                  of a deer

 

 Contemporary Haibun Online