The Long Wait

The snow arrives first—before the heavens, like a team of brick masons—lays slabs of ice on steps, stone walls, the grill, the yard. Then the hissing wind hassles the old oaks, their skeletons clicking and cracking. Outside the bay window, twigs, clumps of snow, and bits of ice whizz by in a rush to god-knows-where.

wild wind chimes . . .
the ice cream truck
still far away

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contemporary haibun online, Issue 21.3, 2025.

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