It's Still Life

The Man Who Made Besoms

I know a man, although I don’t think you ever know a man like him, who lived in a boathouse on the lake. He was stick-willow thin, hair wild and the colour of fire, he loved walking in razor-blade-like-rain. Had a beard the colour of grey mould. He spent his days fastening and unfastening twigs and willow bark. Always ate bologna sandwiches for lunch, that and a black coffee. He had one skill – he made cinnamon and birch besoms. I took him for lunch one day, just to prove to him that other sandwich fillings were equally tasty. He ordered a black coffee and bologna sandwich. We ate in quiet contemplation. nothing could break our silence – his eyes unfocused and staring, blind as his besoms.

Coal black was his sight
Skies might as well have three moons
It’s an unbroken sleep

Note: a besom is a handmade broom. A haibun written for Miz Quickly’s Day 6 “cha-ching shopping/buying something”. 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.