It's Still Life

An Odd Line-Spectra

The wind has no steady direction today. Atoms bouncing about on a line-spectra. Leaves and debris in an orange orbit; a white dog chasing its tail. Everything is cyclonic-yellow. Even my thoughts. It’s like an itch. The sting of anxiety. The wind jumping at the trees, as they’re heaving off frost and struggling toward green. Birds, squirrels, they confine themselves to the lower bare curves of branches. It’s physics, a line-spectra of nature. I never understood physics. How many molecules ride in an old man’s beard – I don’t know. And I don’t care about the velocity of crisp-dry leaves, why they press themselves into the corner of fences, and wait to be raked up when spring arrives. It’s enough that the rake is mine, and that I can still use it. And if God really is watching over me, does he see me as a faint vibrating line of colour, like I perceive wind — like freedom. Am I in his line-spectra? Am I an annoying itch. Am I his sting of anxiety.

No flowers yet
No blossoms on the table
Just salt and pepper

Poetic form: Haibun. Def: Line-spectra is a phenomenon which occurs when excited atoms emit light of certain wavelengths which correspond to different colours. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting #apoemaday on Twitter