Big Sky Country
northern lights still dancing
in our heads
Rising at dawn, we pack the worn rucksack with just the necessities—pocketknife,
mosquito spray, snake bite kit, an old issue of Newsweek—and head out
with our fishing poles. As we enter the first stand of pine, Mikey turns and
waves goodbye to our cabin. I grin, knowing no one’s awake but us kids.
At the sagebrush flat we catch a batch of baby grasshoppers. Granny showed me how last summer. "Walk real slow through the scrub and swat the little critters with a rolled-up magazine—not too hard, you just want to stun them. Stow them in the Prince Albert’s can from your Grandad’s tackle box."
Our trail becomes steep now. The rattle of swift water grows louder as we crest the ridge, then descend to our favorite spot below the beaver dam. A small meadow of gnawed-off stumps is overgrown with skunk cabbage and horsetail reeds. Mikey spots moose tracks so we’re on the lookout. Those thick willows lining the creek will give us cover if one shows up.
scent of rain . . .
a pair of rainbows
thumping in the creel
Comments: The opening haiku of this haibun works as a prologue to an engaging narrative describing a childhood memory in "Big Sky Country." The present tense prose creates a sense of immediacy, such that the reader is apt to hear the voice of a ten-year old. Specific language and tangible sensory imagery such as "the rattle of swift water,' the brush of horsetail reeds" and the sight of "gnawed-off stumps" produce a cinematic effect that draws the reader into this adventure. Granny's quoted caution further animates the story, and the final prose line re-opens the narrative with the possibility that the appearance of a moose might further add to an adventure. The deftly rendered closing haiku fully re-engages our senses, complimenting the prose while adding an associated image of a successful fishing escapade.
Frogpond 47.3, Autumn 2024
No comments:
Post a Comment