Haibun for a break in the clouds

They were around again, the overweight, middle-aged men in orange vests, with their dogs and their guns and their transport, posted all around the edge of our land. Their friends deep in the thicket drove out a couple of deer, and the heavy-bellied watchers shot them. I saw them fall, thirty yards from me, at the window watching, unable to to anything but cry. They hauled them away, the hinds, their gentle, dead heads, long-eared, scraping the ground, and I wished I had the power of the ancients to open the ground before their heavy, insensitive feet, and let the earth swallow them up.
An hour
of fitful sun before
the dark returns.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

17 thoughts on “Haibun for a break in the clouds”

      1. They know in their deepest hearts that a simple deer has majesty, a beauty they’ll never have. So they have to kill it. I bit of someone’s head here, on the internet as they’re far from me, for bragging about shooting a kudu with a goddamn bow and arrow! It’s sickening!

      2. There’s probably a psychological explanation for it, inferiority complex, or something, but frankly, I don’t care what their problem is, if I had a bow and arrows I’d used them.

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