We sit, almost entirely silent save for the occasional click. The hiss and gurgle of overworking radiators saturate the Spring air that we are not yet prepared for with a dry, flat, menthol-tinted heat. The space between us is strung with laundry - the gaud of high days punctuating the clustered Pantones of the working week. We do not speak, but every so often we lift eyes in synchrony and wave, weave gentle, Sunday smiles, slide back to our other passions.
as the unmowed grass
leaps, two tired trees lean close, roots
deep in waiting soil.
This is a Haibun. I’d never heard of such a thing before, and have now seen some gorgeous examples inspired by the NaPoWriMo 2017 early bird prompt. Hooray for new forms! :)
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