When I think back to my childhood, I see the beginning of September filtered through horse chestnut leaves, a precious time before the first day back at school in shiny new shoes, with a new satchel, pencil case and, if I was lucky, a fountain pen. In those days, autumn had already arrived with a vengeance. The grass in front of our block would be thick with leaves that we’d kick high into the air. They hid precious shiny conkers in their split, spiky shells. If there were none to be found, we’d search for a big stick to toss into the branches overhead until they rained on us.
On the first day back at school, the teacher would remind us to bring in conkers, leaves, acorns and other autumn treasures for the nature table or collages that she would pin to the walls. I remember that shifting feeling as the days tumbled into twilight by four o’clock; not long before we’d wake up in the dark and walk to school with a nip in the air, sniffing the first coal fires of the year through early mist.
autumn’s ripeness bursts
dripping with plump fruitfulness
Kim M. Russell, 2017
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Haibun Monday: Komorebi
Toni is keeping the bar at the dVerse Poets Pub this Monday with a seasonal prompt: ‘komorebi’ (koe moe ray bee) which means light filtered through leaves, specifically at the beginning of spring or fall.
She would like us to write about the dying of a season or its rebirth into another season, anything that relates to this season between seasons, in a haibun of one to three tight paragraphs, ending with a classic haiku.