The Gift

She was twelve at the time and we were on an excursion to the mountains from our coastal community. This was her first trip to the mountains and as we made the twisty climb in elevation, so did her excitement. As we passed along the side of a cascading stream filled with boulders, she asked if we could stop.

sunlight and ripples
playing across the water . . .
thoughts wandering

Walking to the water’s edge, my wife and I began stepping from rock to rock working our way into the stream. From behind us we heard, “Wait!” As we turned she said, “I don’t know how to do that.” I responded, “Do what?” and she replied, “Walk out there on the rocks.” What was familiar for us – having been raised in an area much like this – it was unfamiliar to our young companion.

Going back, I took her hand and guided her across the rocks showing her how to step cautiously. Later, I taught her how to skip stones. Simple things really, a mere passing of knowledge.

sun drenched days
and time spent in friendship . . .
sparkling light


— Dan Hardison


Photo by Dan Hardison
Blue Ridge Mountains, North Carolina


Haibun, Contemporary Haibun Online - April 2012, vol 8 no 1

Sunlight

Cinquain and image by Dan Hardison
Photo: Cookeville, Tennessee


Cinquain, Sketchbook - Mar/Apr 2011

Wishes and Dreams

Haiku and image by Dan Hardison
Photo: Wilmington, North Carolina


World Haiku Association, May 2012

Baxter

My wife’s best friend had been battling cancer for several years when Baxter came into her life. She wanted a dog as a companion and Baxter was a gentle, quiet, loving dog that was playful, but also content just to be by your side and petted.

When her cancer took a turn for the worse and she became weaker, my wife would walk Baxter during her daily visits with her friend. Whenever her friend had to be in the hospital, Baxter would stay with us. At last, the doctor said there was nothing more he could do. During a visit with my wife, her friend said she could no longer care for Baxter and asked if we would keep him and give him a home.

dark clouds rolling in
and distant thunder rumbling . . .
I should have noticed

Three weeks after Baxter came to stay, my wife’s father unexpectedly entered the hospital. We immediately left for the ten-hour drive with Baxter accompanying us. Over the next two weeks, we stayed in motels and the home of family. Everywhere we went, Baxter went – never a problem, always on good behavior, taking it all in stride. But, my wife’s father passed away – cancer.

After returning home, we found that my wife’s friend was now bedridden. They were able to spend one last good visit together filled with friendly conversation as they once had enjoyed. A few days later, she too was gone. Baxter is still with us and it is here he will stay.

time to sit awhile,
to breathe the fresh-scented air,
to daydream, to doze,
and perhaps a quiet walk
at this home away from home


— Dan Hardison


Photo by Dan Hardison
Wilmington, North Carolina


Haibun, Contemporary Haibun Online - April 2012, vol 8 no 1

Dreams

Cinquain and image by Dan Hardison
Photo: Wilmington, North Carolina


Cinquain, Sketchbook - Jul/Aug 2011