Fading Glory

A haibun about the nature of things, or less is more

I look up from my book, troubled by a scratching at the window. When I open the front door, there is only one solitary leaf, a leaf that is lying on my porch; autumn’s letter from the branches above, shrugged of its bough by a quick breeze.

Let it be. My tree blossomed me colourfully into spring, and sheltered me through my summer, with playful dimpled patterns on my patio.

I do not need the shade cast from the late autumn sun anymore, but I have little to give in return for the year’s care, or do I? Perhaps the thankfulness I feel is not about the giving of something.

And so I, to survive another year, what must I cast from me?

writing—
pages turn, leaves fall, words too
in silence, trees grow

A haibun is a ‘journal' or ‘diary,’ always written in the first person, with a piece of short poetry to give a relationship to the prose. Usually a haiku but other forms may be used