This was inspired by a Choka I wrote previously, here, when contemplating on the wren.
The woman would sit on the cold concrete during her fifteen minute break. She was wrapped in woolen coat, toque and scarf, shielded by cement pillars. That cold winter, ten years ago, sat in mourning contemplation by a bed of frozen dirt, was once a garden. Twelve months went by as she sat day by day, accompanied by her faithful wren.
bereft, she sits
wren pecks on frozen soil,
a sacred visit
© Tournesol ’15
Tournesol dans un Jardin 
Amazing the sensitivity that nature has – beautiful haibun
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Thanks, it truly IS amazing.
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You at your best – understated, yet a whole novel in what was left in the mood and not the words.
This is the kind of writing that everyone would like – and behind it all it is very, very clever, as well as sincere. Do you know, I am almost scared to read it again, scared to associate myself to the woman, knowing the uncomfortable feeling I will get, the pain.
Yhr imagery alone reminds me a little of the gypsy women sent to beg during winter around here, but the scene you set runs deep, very deep.
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Ouf, Merci! your words touch me, Hamish. I am so pleased you “got it” in the few words I have shared. There is so much to tell and yet I prefer the reader interpret from his or her own experiences.
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Beautiful…hope they both find their song back.
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Thanks so much for reading, it’s a long precious story.
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Sad. If you are going to be poor ….best in a warm climate i think !
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Yes it has been a cold winter, February was the coldest in 115 years in Quebec.
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Profound. 🙂
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I truly belive it was my father keeping me company for a year after he passed.
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