Party People . . .

 

Late enough. Alone in my bed I listen to sounds drifting through open doors and windows. Muffled laughter. Snippets of speech. A high pitch. A low. The clink of ice cubes on cut-glass. A fork or knife against a spoon. The scratch of a record needle sinking deep into a groove. The rustle of skirts as they brush against trousers. A pat from a hand. A jab from an elbow. A hiccup. A belch. A pinch. A sneeze. The simultaneous snap of fingers.

On my wall, shadows morph into monsters. Venetian blinds transform into the bars of a prison. A summer breeze enters my room without knocking. I jump up and tiptoe to the second-floor landing. For a glimpse into a world of chiffon and pearls. And smoke rings. And charm bracelets of gold and silver that jangle to the distant leitmotif of another time and place.

campfire song
. . . mother’s note tucked
inside my bedroll

A Hundred Gourds, vol. 2., no. 1,
December 2012

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About Margaret Dornaus

I’m a writer and a teacher, as well as a haiku-doodler. I live in a beautiful woodland setting, surrounded by native oak forests, that inspires me to record haiku snapshots of luna moths and our resident roadrunner, and even an occasional black bear as it hightails it across the top of my road, my mongrel dog barking at its heels as I watch with wonder. My work as a travel writer has appeared in publications from The Dallas Morning News to the Robb Report. You can find examples of my travel writing–as well as excerpts from a travel memoir I’m working on–at my other WordPress site, Travelin’ On. What more than that do you need to know? Only that I started this blog with an eye toward collaboration. Got a haiku? Send it my way. . . . I’m all about new visions & voices. Best, Margaret
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