I know I said that this Christmas was going to be a silent, contemplative time, but it didn’t work out quite like that. We did a lot of cooking, a lot of eating, made a lot of noise, terrified the animals with silly Christmas costumes (definitely not my idea) and decorated the house with greenery wrenched from the surroundings—the Christmas decorations being among the many things we haven’t found yet
And, I succumbed. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without the Sound of Music, so we watched it again.
The following haibun was written on Saturday and expresses how I felt about this end of year celebration. The two words not to use for Colleen’s last Tanka Tuesday prompt of the year are ‘New & Experience’. This haibun, if not spot on, is close.
The grass is wet the day long, and green. Lords and ladies spread marbled leaves, and water drips diamonds from black branches. Cries fill the wooded air, bounced back from hanging cloud, sharp and bright in the indefinite gloom. Here, where the sky touches the earth and bathes it in the water wash of the ocean, where fog fills the valley at morning and at dusk, and no light pierces the nights of no moon, I feel close to the source of all things. Nowhere, in this December night of fox bark and the snuffling of badger and hedgehog, is there a sign, a pulse, a break in the clouds, riven by a long ago birth in an eastern desert.
There are too many
stars to count this night—none sings
louder than the rest.