Deeper and deeper into this half-moon night, how thinly the clock chimes its way up the stairs.
In the black the distant sky-dog worries the bones of the dead and
its silence keeps me awake… awake to the mo-poke’s call and the
bus grinding up the hill flashing light in stripes along the wall, flickering like an old home movie.
These sharp winter nights, feather doonas for some, misery for others
huddled in doorways or asleep on park benches.
her only remaining
NOTE: the above is a Haibun, a short piece of succinct prose accompanied by a haiku.
This Haibun was published in the British Journal, Presence No.50, 2014.