A Question More

Haibun—The Devil You Don’t

For all his bulk, he drifts down the hill in silence, cloven hooves splaying to grip loose rock. At intervals he pauses to taste a branch of this tree or that before walking on. Eventually the moose stops a few feet from my camper to browse in earnest.

He is quiet. I hear the rustle of aspen leaves stripped from their branches by determined teeth, the occasional huff of breath, jaws working the leaves without haste. I have seen bull moose charging, but this one moves through the world without disturbing it. Dried pine needles on one flank speak of recent sleep.

I text photos to a friend.

Her first response: “Wow!” Then: “Are you safe??”

I listen for a moment to Steller’s jays, the continuous whisper of aspen leaves. My friend drives urban highways at rush hour. She shares a house with the man she loves.

”Yes,” I reply. “Are you?”

She sends an eye roll emoji.

Under the pines, the moose is washed by shifting light. One minute his eyes and fur gleam, velveted antlers backlit with gold. The next they fade into bark and shadow.

He drifts to another aspen, browses briefly, then ambles down the hill. The grasses don’t even waver as he passes.

stripped wires
fraying in the engine
a mouse’s nest

Notes

Things I learned about writing haibun in this one: I think like an essayist, with through-lines and a developed thesis. The poem at the end, while it looks like a modern English-language haiku, belongs more to a cause-and-effect, linear world than a world of juxtapositions. It’s a micro-poem. I suspect that’s less an issue of “craft” than of thought process.

I’ll try:

Q: Is my goal really to write a better haibun, or is it to say what I’m interested in saying? What is my priority? (Am I looking for an excuse not to learn a new skill?)

A: What I’m interested in is really a mindset of haibun and haiku—juxtaposition and spaciousness. I think this piece says what I want to say and says it well. But I’d like to explore a more open way of thinking/writing.

#Haibun #Perspective