October 30, 2018


Tree Challenge












Haiku and image by Dan Hardison


Haiga Online - Tree Challenge
Vol, 19-1, Spring 2018

August 27, 2018


By His Side


He is up from his nap and ready for an afternoon walk. As we leave, he stumbles on the threshold of the door. His pace is slow, his movement stiff, but he has a look of determination as we move along the familiar path. We reach our destination (only half as far as in the past), and start the journey home. As we return, he is moving even slower and a bit winded, but tomorrow he will be ready again for another walk.

He is 15 in human years and has multiple health issues. The playfulness and exuberance may be diminished, but in those brown cataract glazed eyes the affection still shows through. I once said, “it is here he will stay” and it is here we will be by his side.

        comforting
        though faded and worn . . .
        child’s blanket


Dan Hardison


Contempary Haibun Online
July 2018, vol 14 no 2

July 27, 2018


Water Challenge








Haiku and image by Dan Hardison


Haigaonline - Water Challenge
Vol, 18-2, Autumn 2017

June 29, 2018


Unknown Horizon


This is someone who has always been outgoing, who loved sports, and always stayed busy. But Parkinson’s disease is taking its toll. This once vibrant life is slowing down, the speech is difficult to understand, movement is faltering, the step that was ever so sure now unsteady. Like a ship listing starboard, he continues on to some uncertain horizon.

        clinging
        to a vanished season . . .
        autumn leaf


 Dan Hardison


Contempoary Haibun Online
October 2017, vol 13 no 3

May 28, 2018


Knowing


As far back as I can remember, an old handsaw hung on the pegboard above my father’s workbench. I do not recall him ever using it, instead using a newer saw that hung next to the old one. It was not until I was a teenager that I noticed the initials “RH” carved in the old saw’s wooden handle – my grandfather’s initials.

        waking
        to the morning light . . .
        fleeting dream

My grandfather died when I was two years old – too young to remember him. There is a photo of this man and me riding together on a horse, and he is smiling. There is another photo, this time he is alone, standing outdoors looking forlorn. I would like to know more about this man I never had the chance to know.

        image before me
        reflected in the mirror . . .
        family tree


 Dan Hardison


Contempary Haibun Online
July 2016, vol 12 no 2