The Change, Haibun Options

[JaxMyth]

Drab-olive water dimples. It is the slack on low water. Boats fret and jerk at their moorings. Gulls squabble. The trees pulse a cicada tinnitus that dulls the burble of the oyster punts. The sun becomes heavy and I move my arm off the balcony rail and onto the table. You smile and I smile. The Veuve Clicquot tastes like velvet toast.

slack water
a cicada shell
spirals slowly


Dessert. You have chosen zabaglione. I fuss with the menu, and choose what I always choose. You laugh, softly. Annoyed, I look out past the glints sliding across the flats. There, asleep in the mud, tenders, clinker-built and unemployed, dream. A fresh tang of salt cuts through decay and the mad run of the flood tide has begun. “Look!” I point. “Glad tidings ready to slap those tenders awake.” You reach, glide your hand across my cheek and whisper: “I’m more than me!”

flood tide
the mangroves walk into deeper water

[Guest_rdmii_*]

Lovely. All I could really say is that it feels a little top heavy. The whole piece is excellent, but the opening is so richly textured that when you return to the paragraph form the second time it feels more prosaic (meaning resembling not benign) than it actually is. I do love the ambiguity and implication of the last stanza though.