Scattered and Gathered

Photo by Jonathan Borba on Pexels.com

Too many voices. Too few of them my own. The drumbeat noise of Twitter and its ever-inciting FOMA. The incessant cymbols of Google-Classroom work, with its screens of tiled avatars and silent answers. The base-boom of volunteering demands.

Somehow the path of poetry ended under windblown sand. I stumbled into the sandstorm, fingers clenching the flying grains. The words withered. The lines drooped low. The April ambition of a fourth 90-in-30, even a 30/30, fell like a tempest-tossed house-of-cards.

The winds cease. The clamoring voices die down to a persistent whisper. I still face the screen fatigued and leave it exhausted. The volunteer demands accumulate still. But the soft whisper of poetry emerges from the cacaphony.

Here I am, again.

conflicting birdsongs

suddenly past bloom

the dogwood


Categories: haikai, haiku community

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