Haibun: Prose Kat Creighton
With swelling clouds before them these Saturday afternoon drivers are all on their way somewhere. The traffic crawls. My eyes are beguiled by the shape shifting sky. My mood changes with the music on the radio and my mind wanders. The work left behind. The friend whose mother is ill. The husbands and wives still in love and those who aren’t. Construction always along this same curve . . . what is it they are trying to fix? Those who have passed and those still with us. Streaming sunlight unfolds from the smallest bit of blue sky. My mother always told me those rays were ushering souls into heaven. Still these dark clouds color my everything. And all these brake lights. ~ Kat Creighton
his eyes
in the rear view mirror
first snow
Ingen kommentarer:
Send en kommentar