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| Lit by a butternut sun. Photo by Linda Mitchell 2024 |
Haibun and Aubade
At the end of our conference we heard that route 64 was shut down. There would be no happy winding east and north toward home for for a couple of hours. My friend bought a book of Williamsburg Ghost Stories and we strolled from asphalt to cobblestones of the old capitol.
Though a November day, it was warm for walking. The autumn sun down-sliding and friendly as I huh-ed! to readings of ghost sightings and hauntings in the taverns and houses of Duke of Gloucester Street.
Shops began closing for the day. A milliner took in ribboned bergeres from an outside display, The fife and drum corps lined up to play taps. Shadows stretched into long stockings.
At the backdoor of a blacksmith I watched a modern family listen to the smithy holding a red hot piece of iron with his tongs on the anvil. A smith assistant listened too. Was she taking a fresh breath of air? Cleaning tools? She glowed beside a window open to eighteenth century life caught by my iphone as I traveled time.
butternut evening
just thirty in november
save up for winter
Linda Mitchell--draft
My dear World...I worry for you. There's a new poem on World's padlet.
Thank you poet and poem curator extraordinaire, Karen Edminsten, for hosting our round up this week.
