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
dissolving
into
nothing
4 comments:
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.
Thank you, Bill. High praise, indeed.
Adelaide
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...
Thanks, Gillena, for visiting. It's sad to see places you loved in the past change to where they are no longer recognizable.
Adelaide
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