Haibun Today
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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Editor
Volume 5, Number 4, December 2011



Dru Philippou
Taos, New Mexico, USA

 

Aspens

Milkweed floss and thistledown drift along the edge of the stream and farther down the narrow canyon and come together in the mist. The three of us follow close behind. We cross the stream by the broken bridge and onto the trail again. There are beaver dams that back up the stream, creating ponds where my friend's partner decides to fish because he can no longer keep up with us. We continue walking to stay warm, scramble over a series of berms, and see two camouflaged elk hunters in a grove of aspens, their rifles pointing skyward. We warn them about our friend fishing by the stream before ascending the switchback trail to the alpine lake to have lunch. Conifers and aspens in gradations of yellow and orange cover the lake's slopes. Long plumes of grey where the leaves have fallen sweep between colours. The wind pauses as though it has stopped breathing, then reaches for another breath and stops again.

gunshots—
gleanings of grouse
flushed into the air

end

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