Haibun: Watkins Mill, 9/22/2020
In a Missouri state park, sitting outside a camper that belongs to my brother-in-law and his wife, drinking cabernet from a coffee cup, I read a book. Theoretically. A dangling branch swings in the soft wind, a bird loops through the trees, a leaf falls 30 feet. I hear a whine in the air: a yellowjacket hovers near my head. I've slathered on bug spray, but it settles on a recently-washed hand. I wait, and when it doesn't move, I wait. When it doesn't move, I puff a gentle, wine-scented breath towards it. The yellowjacket leaves. I wish I'd waited longer, until it was ready to go. It probably didn't have anything to tell me, but still...
I ignore neighbors, but
smells of woodsmoke
-- Carl Bettis