It's Still Life

A Haibun Poem that was Supposed to be about a Pneumatic Drill …

There’s a village whose name I can never pronounce correctly, so obviously I can’t spell it correctly either, where I stayed for a week and a few days in the Colombian Andes, and I’d wake up early in the morning, long before the sun broke over the round ridges of the mountains, long before the heat of the (nearly) equatorial sun burnt away the mist in the valley, its light revealing tree tops and smokey chimneys and red tile roofs. And when the sky started filling with light, these funny little insects (their name starts with a C or maybe it’s a c) started drumming away and making such a drilling noise as to make one cover one’s ears, and I can’t remember what they’re called, so obviously I won’t be able to spell it correctly either. And I just remembered that this poem was supposed to be about a machine, but as you’ve noticed it’s not.

Lizards on the walls
Insects with pneumatic drills
Water you can’t drink

Written for Day 22 PAD (poem-a-day challenge) “machine”. 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.