5 7 5
Haiku and a little story
Summer Haiku 7/14-7/22 2023
Andy loves haiku. They’re like dancing words in rain Or peanut butter Sticking to your soul. Simple images. Beauty, Washing clean your mind And opening joy Or pleasantification. Bliss, flavor, senses.
Fire poppy, now you bloom tall, red, brilliant and alone. A response to death. I envy your drive engulfing the hills, beauty in desolation. I won’t look for you But I will appreciate those moments of joy.
Story Time - a-mus-ing long ride from 7/29/23
Along the shore walks a man, solo. No visible trail, yet clearly there is a path to follow. He ducks, dodges, steps over logs. Occasionally he stops to look around, ponder. A butterfly tails him, turning this way and that so he can not see its presence. A hawk squawks from above. He looks up and sees it swoop down to the river, reach in and snag a trout. Dangling it flops from one tiny claw. The hawk flaps away over the trees. The man pauses, watches and moves along. The river is odd, seeming first to flow with him, then against. Rapids shifting, seemingly with the wind.
He comes down to the water and kneels at a pool of water. The butterfly hovers behind him. He removes his hat, swipes it into the water and places it back on his head. Cool. Collected. Thoughtful. Using the tools around him. Noticing everything, except for the butterfly behind his head. Float. He stands and watches the river, then picks up a small twig and flings it in. He stands and watches as it flows first to his right, pauses, then flows back to his left. The river is like a giant wave machine… a giant tennis match. It’s all the same water, over and over, back and forth, churning rather than flowing. The world is stuck and he is just now noticing.
He bends and finds another stick to fling. It lands and starts to his left.. now moving in exactly the opposite direction of the first stick at any given time. When the first stick goes left, the second is going right… they criss cross in a seeming balance, teeter totter of flow and energy. Balance. He sees it and wonders. He jumps in and wonders when he will return to where he started.
The river bubbles around him, pushing upward to keep his dense body high. He flows by boulders and tide pools and whirlpools. He looks to the shore and notices that with every passing moment it looks entirely different, as if it were a different land. He enjoys the sensation of the water on his skin. It has been a while since he has felt more than air or clothes touching him. The coolness is like a massage and comforts. Daring, he swims a stroke away from shore. The butterfly, still behind his head, flaps noticeably erratic, panic. He strokes again. When he turns the shore is gone, the water is calm and it is one giant expanse of sea. Alone. Calm. Resting, the salty water holding him high with no effort. What? Now? The butterfly rests on his hat. It’s going to be a long ride.
In closing, spread joy. Do not just seek it. Be it. Unless it breaks your Haiku.