I show my son how to tie up the food pack. “It keeps the bears away.” He carries me through the darkness to the lake’s edge where my husband is waiting with the canoe. The last time I was in the Boundary Waters I was the teenager. Now I must ride in the center of the boat. My doctor advised against this trip and told me not to expect remission from the disease that is consuming my body.
The rhythm of oars pulls the boat forward. The silhouettes of the pines succumb to the stars. Under the aurora, even the moon releases its brightness to the lake’s embrace.
I take a metal cup out of the pouch and dip it into the water.
.
The rhythm of oars pulls the boat forward. The silhouettes of the pines succumb to the stars. Under the aurora, even the moon releases its brightness to the lake’s embrace.
I take a metal cup out of the pouch and dip it into the water.
.
planetarium
an operator freezes
the sky
an operator freezes
the sky
by Tish Davis
Dublin, Ohio
1 comment:
the prose part moved me into the mentioned canoe...
I listened to the rhythm of oars, saw the stars -- all sorrows forgotten, far away...
and then the haiku was a real surprise, another (very different) view (sky, stars)
the expression "metal" ("metal cup") in the last prose part is a good connection to the "planetarium" (technical equipment etc.), in the water ("...metal cup...dip it into the water") the reflecting stars and then the shift to another place (the planetarium)
best regards,
Angelika Wienert
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