Late this morning through into early afternoon we walk. Out from the back of the house up into Woodhouse and then to Quorn.. back home through Woodthorpe.
this watery sun
an elderly Chinese man
sings into the mist
He has a little girl with him about three years old. His voice is strong. Years later she will remember walking hand in hand with her grandad in the English countryside his voice ringing out in Chinese for her, the birds, the sheep and the trees.
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A magnanimous haibun start to haiku to finish. A kind of tramping through the field gait opens it into the mist, the imagination, and memory. Thank you!
Paul Conneally’s haibun is one that’ll linger long with me, partly for its own gentle imagery and narrative, partly as it recalls the many happy times I spent with my own grandchildren when young, walking them in the Weaver Valley, down through meadows and cornfields to the riverbank below, with narrowboats passing and ducks to feed…
So glad you posted it Donna.
Thank you Paul