Hurricane Season


photo by Charley

It’s hurricane season in Florida.  I know it’s not a universally-accepted season; certainly not celebrated in most Eurasian locales.  It is a deadly reality here.  As I look out at the Oak trees that thinned their canopies in gusts up to 80 miles per hour, I can see more clearly the tiny, indistinct birds, the dragonflies, and the mud-daubers that populate what’s left above the trunks.

Why do I write the way I do?  Damned if I know.  I simply respond to who, what, or where and stuff comes out.  Sometimes it’s crazy, or funny… but I can be deadly serious, as anyone who’s read my works know well.  I’ve been at the beginning of life (my son) and at the end of living (more times than I could ever count).  Everything I’ve done in life (also more than I care to count) gets poured into the mix.  And I respond to great writing.  I pull up a Basho haiku:

But for a woodpecker
tapping at a post, no sound
at all in the house

That’s kind of how it felt at our house after the twelve-hour wind barrage quietened down.  Something like shell-shock followed.

Wind stopped finally
Egrets return to the pond
peacefully to fish


It’s Haibun Night at dVerse Poet’s Pub.  Follow the link to see what’s required, and feel free to join in.

21 thoughts on “Hurricane Season

  1. I imagine you’ll have poems about the hurricane for some time to come, Charley. An experience like that marks a writer, I think, etches something that becomes part of their thoughts for years. And yes, hurricane season is definitely a legitimate season in your part of the world!


  2. Love how your haibun progresses from the deadly reality of hurricane season to the Charley reality of writing. In just two sentences you painted a clear picture of a hurricane for me with trees and birds. I also love the way you quote Basho and then bounce back a stunner of a haiku of your own!


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