This haibun started as a first draft at Mary Lee’s place during her April Poetry challenge, which she coupled with a look at attribution and the rich resources in Wikimedia Commons. Something about the photo of the woman fishing really struck me. Off and on this month, I’ve been working on the haibun that emerged from the image, discovering in it something about boundaries between worlds and the dexterity it takes to live on the surface between them. I’m not sure where this will eventually lead, but it doesn’t feel quite done to me. Still, I like it enough to share!
Here’s the photo, found in Wikimedia by Mary Lee at A Year of Reading.
Check out Liz Steinglass’ place for more Poetry Friday.
Fly Fishing: a haibun
Two worlds: air, water. And between them, the quicksilver surface. From her perch atop a boulder, a trout fisher considers her options. Surrounding her; the rush of melt water, the balm of balsams, the persistence of granite, and the fullness of time.
She holds these two worlds, irreconcilable, in her heart: the murky world of trout – their hungers, their desires; and the sweetness of air, the warmth of the occasional sun.
Yet, perhaps, in the unfolding of long time passing, the way will open through the deep eddy of understanding, an unsteady step into the swirling waters, and the tap of a fly carried in the current.
hand-tied midge arcs
toward icy trout-waters –
© Steve Peterson