one deep breath prompt

1

behind bales of straw
rabbits shelter from the sun
buzzards arc overhead

2

a curving grass track
by the meandering stream
still gets me to town



one deep breath prompt: the scenic route

I don't think I'm often accused of not taking the scenic route. There are some who, once you arrive on their doorstep, ask how long it took you and by which roads did you come? I have to tell them I haven't a clue! It's as if there's some competition going on and they're waiting to enter your name onto a league table they've pinned to the back of the kitchen door.

haiku never seem to fail me in their theraputic effect, to me they're sort of sculpting in words, like wood carving or working in stone, whereas most poetry is more like working in clay - does that make any sense?

the above are two recent observations (last month I think) on a roundabout walk into town.