Tuesday, November 04, 2008

haiku gift

Saw you once before
Had a great conversation
And then you were gone


Blogger Michael said...

Early November, bare trees, dried leaves piled thick on ground of village square. I sit on bench, read book on Thoreau, far from home. Long-sleeved shirt - no coat, sweater needed in this unseasonable warmth.

familiar rustling
one who I was waiting for
shuffles through autumn

Round table in front window corner of small restaurant. Soup and sandwich, conversation, getting-to-know talk. This short time together maybe only time together. Words flow across table. Questions asked, questions answered. Histories discussed. Far away experiences shared – Japan, India, Acadia, San Fran.

Food finished, time still available before we need to be where we need to be. A walk through small village, to cemetery, dark trees, darker tombstones. Sign warns of arrest if there after dark. Ambling out, through streets, up hill, down hill, talk of history, of people, places. Words flow, feet step, time passes.

along town’s main street
pioneer cemetery
time passes so fast

Now with small group, where we needed to be. Writers exchanging words. Glancing off Kawabata’s Palm-of-the-Hand Stories, we worked up our own tales from lives lived in scattered places, scattered times. Another sharing, another getting-to-know experience.

Words end, time grows short, we all leave to our own spaces, places, private interiors. Some to home, some to backpack and road, some soon to far western landscapes. Wanting to linger, but not knowing how.

Basho’s pilgrimage
far road to distant places
will we meet again

6:50 PM  

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