It's Still Life

A Haibun: The Virus

It was a cold-sleep year. I called them the vinegar and water days. That’s how they tasted. Our tufted hair left uncut, unkempt, and not a sound filled our ears. No cars, no planes, no trains, no siren calls. And there were days, summer mostly, of flowery flattery and reflection, and we walked hills and county to escape our unhappy limitations, and in mid-spring when this plague began to lift, and tea cups and dishes rattled on garden tables, that’s when spring turned winter cold again, and that tyrant virus kept us indoors still. But soon our world will open up – soon this great swirling skirt of lines and play, this flounce and bounce into a season of uncorseted voices and steely conviction, and then watch us as the curtain goes up! As you like it! What drama we will see.

a crow flies as the wind
clips the warp of a half-mast flag
we wait for an ending

Poetic Asides prompt, write a poem using at least three of the following six words: convict, great, play, race, season, and voice. I used 6 or 6. NaPoWriMo prompt: I used the Historical Dictionary of Science Fiction, the word “cold-sleep“, and The Poeming Found/Ekphrases challenge “The Reader” with a micro-image from Hieronymus Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   © Misky 2021