The Smuggs Chronicle – Part Six
Haibun Sixth day: August 23, 2013 We park next to a church-turned-community center near an inn on Rte. 100 — Stowe’s Main Street. It’s our second trip, and on the way to Mack Market...
Short stories & poems for everyone from everyone
Haibun Sixth day: August 23, 2013 We park next to a church-turned-community center near an inn on Rte. 100 — Stowe’s Main Street. It’s our second trip, and on the way to Mack Market...
Haibun Fifth Day: August 22, 2013 Clouds fill the sky above Mansfield and Sterling. Sporadic rain falls. Mira and I enjoy an afternoon in. The sun soon breaks through. We eat her homemade salad...
Haibun Poetry Fourth Day: August 21, 2013 Nearly the entire Meadowlark trail lies bathed in sunlight. Mira walks on its shoulder wherever she can find shade. I feel short of breath long before the...
Haibun Poetry Third Day: August 20, 2013 A note on our windshield reads “Please don’t park in front of our home (duh!) Thank you.” Mira’s face flushes red. She soon snaps aloud about the...
Haibun Poetry Second Day: August 19, 2013 I. Stowe Path Walking the asphalt path Wildflowers purple and orange High grasses, blackberries Sycamores and maples Lining the sides Past a bend Top of a rise...
Haibun Poetry First Day: August 18, 2013 The traffic slows to a crawl north of the Woodbury toll. We never hit traffic heading upstate before. After a half-hour, a silver jeep with a crushed...
Haibun Frankie holds the younger boy’s ankles. When the ladies say “Go!” he and the boy race up the green toward the finish line. The younger boy’s desperate hand-after-hand wheeling pulls Frankie along. And...
Haibun Another breeze. More rustling leaves. Shadows spread, then recede. Clouds drift between the sun and the yard. The first leaves fall. Mira finishes tapping on her Asus. She stretches, walks over and states...
Haibun A hornet struggles in the air, slow to fly off after a fruitless search under the deck table. Emerald leaves on a barren peach tree doomed to the saw tremble in the slightest...
Haibun I watch gray cumulus gather. Listen to cicadas, the workers laboring on my neighbor’s house — their chainsaws buzzing, cutting. And the ever-present drone of perpetual traffic on the New York State Thruway....
Haibun An overcast sky. The smallest bands of differentiated clouds make up the mass that floats in a surprisingly cool breeze. Rain may fall any moment. A far cry from my niece’s birthday party...