This morning will be dark for hours yet, and the moon has long been swallowed by the earth’s turning. Insects surround the dark with their incestuous singing, their thin strings tuned to an indeterminate pitch. One leaf falls, then another. In the other room, you’re sleeping at last. Every window mirrors me.

Outside, an owl screams
like a little boy, his voice
not yet broken.


About Carolyn Ogburn

Writer, hiker, activist and gadfly. #Binder Writes @NumeroCinq555 / Blogs @pshares MFA @VCFA
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One Response to Haibun

  1. Linda Wells says:

    Nice work, Carolyn. I had never heard of haibun so I had to look it up. I like to write haiku myself sometimes: good discipline.

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