It is a winter evening, clear and cold, and a fine, invisible mist is freezing to the bricks beneath my feet. The walking is treacherous, more so since the warm yellow light is misleading. It speaks of long evenings and smitten couples strolling slowly, arm in arm. It speaks of sunshine and sandals, of humid afternoons and street vendors selling flowers and fruit.
Honeybee samples /
yellow coneflowers at noon – /
admire carefully //
It is too late to be wandering alone at night, even with the winter mist reflecting and amplifying the street lights. There is too much soft light whirling in the night; it cannot be absorbed by the bricks or the walls or even my mind. I feel like I’m caught in a place beyond time, untouched by both nature and humankind.
The cold air pierces my lungs and snips at my face with its cold talons. I stand and throw my arms open wide … lift my face to the silent sky. Inside, my muse is howling, shrieking: “Still alive – still alive!”
Enveloped by cold /
winter seizes my shoulders /
and shakes me awake //
It isn’t winter worldwide. Somewhere it is summer. Somewhere flowers are blooming and ice is a memory. Somewhere it is June.
It’s too late to wander at night … but too early to sleep.
Wet amber lamplight – /
rise mist, over the city – /
or fall, still and cold //
Ines Williamson. Amber Streets.
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This haibun was written for the weekly Līgo Haibun challenge. We were instructed to select one of two photos by Ines Williamson. Please stop by Pirate’s blog to see the rest of the wonderful haibun!
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Tagged: alive, amber, coneflower, discontent, haibun, ice, inertia, Ines Williamson, summer, Weekly Līgo Haībun Challenge, winter
