Three Haibun by Robin Lloyd-Jones
I walk a narrow track under miles of beech and oak. Strands of gold and red flare like forest fires amongst the greens. Bark steams when touched by the long-fingered sun. But the sky is darkening.
Canyons, cliffs, mossed walls
Submerged in wooded gloom
Fathoms from the sky.
As I follow a yellow-leaved path, my thoughts dwell on betrayals of long ago. In the last quarter of my life they still seethe in my blood.
In the darkest part
A boar thrashes through thickets
And disturbed birds squawk.
My stride quickens as I fantasise revenge. Thunder, a growling tiger, roams the forest.
Rain thwacks waxen leaves, splashes my skin washing away my anger. and patters on my hood. Its steady drumming, its gentle passage through the branches soothes me, washing away my anger.
Seeps to waiting roots.
Robin Lloyd Jones
From: The Sweet Especial Scene pub Two ravens Press (2014)
This section: stories and poems, Writing
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- Reading Palms by Stephen Watt
- Poetry: Lahore, I am coming by Rizwan Akhtar
- Autumn Makes Me Sad by Muriel Baker
- A Story for International Day of Peace by Katie Stepek
- Three Haibun by Robin Lloyd-Jones
- The Indian Shawl a poem by Muriel Baker
- Plum Stone Throat a poem by Jen Gray
- Crohn’s or: How I’m Learning to Stop Worrying and Love the Bag by Calum Maclean
- Autumn Visit to USA by Leela Soma