Hi folks, Jim Fowler here again. This month I have a different form. A haibun. A mix of prose poem and haiku. I've had good luck with these. This particular one was published in Frogpond the Haiku Society of America's journal, issue Winter 07. The trick is to have as big a leap from the prose to the haiku as possible and still make a connection. Enjoy.
The desert horizon sits so far away that my only connections to this world are the ghost strands of barbed wire bordering each side of the highway. It takes over an hour to pass the town lights that first appear at the farthest edge of sight. It’s two hundred thirty miles to the airport.
a white plastic bag clings
to a fence post
After decades of single life, I married. My wife sold her house and moved in with me. She decided we needed a winter place and flew to New Mexico. I compromised on two weeks in January. She stays.
are alien faces
The airport-shuttle driver tells me how he enjoys living in such low humidity. I show him my cracked hands. He shrugs. Seven hours, two planes, and two time zones later, I arrive in New Hampshire. I brush off my jeep. It turns over on the first try.
through the falling snow