AnElephantCant remember last week’s haibun
It is a mere bauble or perhaps a trinket
Gone with the wind
Because AnElephant sinned
He writes it but then forgets to link it
“And then there are the times when the wolves are silent and the moon is howling.” ― George Carlin
“Perfect order is the forerunner of perfect horror.” ― Carlos Fuentes
AnElephant’s offering applies to either, or neither, depending on your life view.
Lost At Sea
Although it is well into October, there is still a sprinkle of people on the beach.
He walks away from the town centre, past his usual swimming haunts, until he reaches a near deserted stretch maybe 200 metres long.
He sits and drinks some water.
The beach is flanked at each end by a 100 metre pier or, more accurately, breakwater of large boulders topped with rough shingle.
He swims out lazily.
The water is fresh, but not cold, even when he passes beyond the sheltered bay.
The surface here looks slightly agitated as a soft breeze chases the current eastwards, but below it is as tranquil as his dreams.
He lies on his back, gazing at the clouds, trying to create an ending for a haibun in his head.
He smiles when he sees the butterfly, small and white, fluttering aimlessly two or three feet above the Med.
Go that way, he says, pointing, head for the green stuff!
He is watching it, laughing, as it seems to follow his directions, when the thought strikes him.
We are both a long way from home.
And he is assailed by an overwhelming sense of loss and the sudden ache of loneliness.
a knife of homesickness
slips deep into the heart