It was the morning after a terrifying storm, and we were woken by the telephone in the very early hours. My husband was called in to secure tubes and sheets on scaffold, and to help tidy up the very large gas site, where he has worked for over twenty-seven years. As his car was out of action, he drove mine down the back lanes, with me clinging on in the passenger seat, braking to a halt at broken branches and, once or twice, executing two and three-point turns to find a clear path. We sped down lanes I’d never seen before while the wind buffeted the old beetle.
Once in the car park, he jumped out, and I swapped seats, determined to drive home the safest way, which took me along the seafront. The waves were enormous, and foam drifted across the coast road. It was raining by now, and there was just one dog walker dodging the spray and puddles. I pulled over by the sea wall to listen to the news on the car radio and take a deep breath before heading for home.
wind sucks on grey waves
washing down broken branches
blast of a car horn
Kim M. Russell, 30th March 2020
I’m hosting this month’s Haibun Monday over at the dVerse Poets Pub, where I’m asking poets to go back into their archives, find an autobiographical poem, write a prose background to it in one to three tight paragraphs, with a bit more detail, and then sum up the poem in a traditional haiku that includes reference to the season.
The poem I chose was from 31st March 2018, entitled ‘Sea Front at 7 a.m.’ That poem was a rewrite of a poem I wrote for NaPoWriMo the year before.