It’s a charming Hofbrau we’re treated to on our last night in Weimar, but I have no appetite for either food or company. At one point, our host for the evening realizes that I’ve neither touched my food nor entered into conversation. After talking non-stop in his native tongue to our guide, he suddenly leans over to apologize for his rudeness. “I should be speaking in English,” he says. “So, what do you think of our village?”
the charred remains
of Goethe’s tree
I’m delighted to have my first published haibun included alongside the work of so many writers I respect and admire. Thank you, Richard Krawiec, for the opportunity to blend my voice with theirs.