It's Still Life

My Sister Doesn’t Write Poems

When we were small, we shared the same bed. Grew up watching silver trout in the stream behind the house. Played with bubbles in the sunshine. Bound ourselves to wishes and love and each other. And she’d say things like harvesting a field of wheat just leaves a starving pattern, or the night was quiet because the air was thick. And when she was a teenager she said that angels stopped whispering in her ear, and she’ll never admit it being the God fearing woman that she is now, but she secretly recited rituals as a child on a full moon’s night …

But my sister doesn’t write poetry, says it’s just not in her.

The leaves did not move
Silver moonlight at midnight
On a fish’s belly

A haibun written for Miz Quickly’s Day 5 prompt – inspired by the title of a poem in “Wisława Szymborska. Poems New and Collected” page 159, My Sister Doesn’t Write Poems. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.