At dVerse Frank is hosting the Haibun with an invitation to write about winter.
“In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.” William Blake
The Unfolding Hitchcockian howl growl winds push water into thunderous demolition of delicate sands, forever changing the face of this coastal scape. Plovers have retreated to the high dunes, gulls and terns have taken refuge. Tomorrow it will slow and the next day it will settle, but nothing will be the same. Every bruise irrevocably changes the fundamental fabric of this tapestry I look upon. Torn limbs and trunks strewn, the line of sand permanently altered, rocks covered or exposed. The singular delighting indulgence is to brave the aftermath and the cold and walk the littered beach of treasures, shells, driftwood, someones things, the sadness of a dead fish. The gulls scree once again, plovers skitter along and crabs scuttle as if nothing has happened. There is at once a horror and awe at the sheer force of it all, and in both there is the child's eyes. skies darkening low wind wraiths storm tender soft sands trinkets offered up