By the River at the End of March

The riverbank wears new clothes, crude edges refined by hewn chunks of Precambrian rock. Where we used to walk, trees hover at the edge waiting for grey waters to retreat, and blackbirds to sing again. Wild geese are nesting.

Marking life changes
by nature’s ebb and flow, is
mostly humbling task

©2021 S. Michaels
As The Crow Flys – Haibun

On Departures and Old Lions

Broad rivers wide open. Wild erratic winds from the northwest, temperatures dropping. Winter’s last roar, March going out like a lion. A bluejay calls in the woods.

Full moon soon waning
magnolia must blossom
keeping bright promise

©2021 S. Michaels
As The Crow Flys – Haibun


A Day or Two Before April

A flying leap, the frisky grey squirrel, camouflaged by tree trunks, takes new territory. Shadow-theatre of branches etched on the white garden wall. Birdsong a soft symphony. Lily of the valley waiting in the wings.

Dreams of an old friend,
on a distant shore, bright as
flowers in April

©2021 S. Michaels
As The Crow Flys – Haibun

The Way of the Wind in the Trees

Branches bare and waiting. Overnight squalls, snow pellets on daffodils. Winds toss northwest in tall ship sails of trees. The chickadee’s cheerful ‘kee-whee’, calling out Winter’s bluff, the laughter of children.

Letting go of cares,
life’s journey like sampan, moved
by prevailing winds

©2021 S. Michaels
As The Crow Flys – Haibun

A Sound of Many Waters

Great grey river crests, carves out new eddies, twists and bends, stiff currents rushing the steep bank below the tea house. Free of winter’s grip, we sip white and amber teas in the warm noonday, serenaded by water.

Rain fell in the night
plucking dream strings easily,
samisen music

©2021 S. Michaels
As The Crow Flys – Haibun