haibun || Sheila E. Murphy

A Difficult Day
 
I have moments. Wings not firm enough to take back trembling. I hear the rain in sheets come down. I wait for solace. Solstice past. As usual, when happiness goes dim, its makings leave a frost. Cover of cloth against mild trees. Near detours made in earnest, revelations, tripods and recordings. Listen to black ice do nothing to the passageways but intercept intention. Plans once paved themselves. In memory of southern runways, I accept the substance mentioned close to moss approaching river. Factored into right of way. Unnecessary roughness leaves the park in disarray. Who overcomes a verdant daydream? Endorsed as on the one hand. Fledgling exchange mid-afternoon turns proximate to nightfall. If philosophy re-dreams for us, where is the absence of cacophony?

North of here, a violin nobody plays, abstraction gathered parallel to four distinctive strings