I miss them the rag-and-bone men of my childhood. Taking things out to them to be rewarded not with money but perhaps a balloon. In my head a green balloon although I know it wasn’t always so. The smell of the horse and the wonderment when it chose to peacefully urinate outside the house. My grandmother’s house. The steam.
I dig in some fresh manure
around the rhubarb
from the haibun archives of Little Onion (Paul Conneally) – you can read a little about how writer Ray Rasmussen used this haibun as a model and how modelling from other works can help in the writing of new works here : HAIBUN TODAY
Little Onion seen eating rhubarb at Loughborough University. You can watch and hear him talking about rhubarb and politics here: DON’T VOTE TORY EAT RHUBARB