Although I love living in a small Norfolk village, where there are no shops or street lights, I miss the sounds, smells and sights of London and relish the opportunity of visiting my daughter, who still lives between Clapham Common and Battersea. I love the way buses pulse like blood through the veins of the city and the Underground rumbles below my feet. I hum along to the backing track of traffic and sirens. On a dark autumn evening, fixed in the halos of street lights and neon signs, I catch glimpses of passing office workers and shoppers on their way home, and homeless people in shop door-ways. There’s a sharp feeling of tension while waiting for the bus. Taxis circle like sharks. A drunk stumbles against a rubbish bin. Once the bus ride is over, there’s the long walk across the common and up a road lined tightly with parked cars and littered with take-away cartons.
bright-eyed fox appears
under city-light sulphur
leaching rust from fur
© Kim M. Russell, 2016
This week’s Haibun Monday prompt is brought to us by Björn, who has asked us to take it to a contemporary level, still sparse prose in the first person and present tense, but bringing in the cityscape: we should look for the bad part of town, the light worms of passing traffic, the beat from distant clubs, using a Bob Dylan quote as a springboard: ‘The land created me. I’m wild and lonesome. Even as I travel the cities, I’m more at home in the vacant lots.’ The haiku should juxtapose the prose rather than complement it.