This is another attempt at a haibun for the dVerse poet’s pub. The theme is ‘free’.
In the streets where the stores with glitzy names stand shoulder to shoulder, their doors proudly open to the bitter winter wind, crowds surge and press. So much glitter, so much music, muffled jazz or chic silence in the thick-carpeted exclusive boutiques, insinuating into pockets and wallets. Guards on the doors, bored and heavy-jowelled, watch impassively. So much glitter fills hands, touching and caressing to weigh the worth. Feet shove into too-tight shoes, bellies sucked in, huffing and puffing the sea moves through the treasure trove of the sales. Toc. Tat. Too much and not enough. I turn my back and watch the gulls sailing with the river.
Cold sun glints on glass,
credit cards flash and twinkle,
brown bird sings for free.