Sun, wind. Car stereos booming. Streets scarred by leftover road salt. Shouts of children outdoors again. Neighbours chatter in lane, a rusted wheelbarrow gathers twigs. Buds closed tight on the ash tree.
On a long journey
waiting to arrive often
like climbing mountain
©2021 S. Michaels
As The Crow Flys – Haibun
image: wallup.net
l i g h t room 