Haibun Today

A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Editor
Volume 4, Number 3, September 2010

Cherie Hunter Day
Cupertino, California, USA



One of my favorite hiding places as a child was the built-in cabinet in the dining room.  I’d empty the lower shelves then curl up in the dark and listen to the pristine bone china with its fluted edge rattle in sync with my breathing.  The cup with its saucer, a married pair, next to the dessert plate, had been immobile for months.  They’d whisper about their former selves lively with use—the syrupy pancakes, hot coffee, and sudsy baths in between. They were once conversant in spoon clang-a-lang and knife skritch.  They practiced daily.  An extended family serving together despite the lost teacup or plate chipped beyond repair.  Everyday dwindled to Sundays until finally the occasional birthday was their only furlough from the dusty cupboard.  Their stories did resonate but eventually I would crave fresh air so I’d replace the meat platters and serving bowls and go outside to the white pine woods.

winter birds
beneath the sunken branches
of arborvitae
I huddle in a snowdrift
that smells faintly of cedar


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