When you work 4 1/2 miles up the side of a mountain, and you’re often the last one to leave, evenings can be solitary, strange, and strangely beautiful.
When the time change kicks in, and darkness invades so swiftly, the mountain can be downright haunting.
I took two photos the other night, and they’ve been haunting me since; remembrance of the moment, and the continuance of feeling.
I wanted to write a haiku in response, but per the mojo of the method, an appropriate one was just not forthcoming. (Dennis Nurkse, absolute genius poet, once described Eastern and Western poetry editing roughly as follows: in the Western Tradition, you start a poem, and then you work on it, revise it, re-start it,work it, revise it again, and so on, until eventually, you achieve an acceptable version; in the Eastern Tradition, you spontaneously create 1000 Haiku, then pick the one good one. That’s Eastern editing.)
So in the spirit of the above-noted tradition, I didn’t want to force the lines, nor edit them. I just wanted them to happen. And while in no way would I posit this as a Haiku of high value or insight, I will say it does what I hoped it would; it remembers the moment to me …
Times and vines change
hearts; moon in the sky like a