Haibun in the Modern English-Language Style by Ray Rasmussen
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Finally the snow has come – a dump of powder that reaches up to my knees.
The border collie, Gyspy, notes that I am dressing for a walk, stretches, then pushes her nose against my calf. She's herding me toward the door.
We are the first to walk on Whitemud Creek. November’s wreckage of dead leaves, bare twigs and fallen trees have been transformed, blanketed in white, pillowy contours. The poplars are sugar coated.
We walk several hours, then climb from the creek to a sidewalk. A commuter road nearby. Rush hour! Like caterpillars, the cars inch along. Yellow fumes enshroud these gas-guzzlers. I try not to breathe. Most have but one occupant. Shadowy forms, like a war zone.
George W. Bush's recent statement that "the Kyoto agreement on the environment is dead," comes to mind.
Billboard: World Wrestling Match, 6:00 p.m., The Battle of the Century! Corporate George versus Planet Earth.
No use, I can’t laugh.
I pass a church, hear singing, pause to enjoy the music.
Gypsy nudges me again, toward home, her food bowl waiting.
published in Simply Haiku, March-April 2004. v2 no 2