Sensing that I needed to get out of the house, Steve came up with the brilliant idea to go to four different places in Dallas, where we would each write a haiku.
I loved the idea and the thought behind it, but the rain put a bit of a damper on it. The first place we went was Arbor Hills Nature Preserve, just a few miles north of our house. Steve found a stream while walking there yesterday and thought it might inspire a haiku.
As we walked to the site, the sky darkened around us, and I heard thunder in the distance.
“Maybe we’d better just go back to the car and write a haiku there,” I said, not particularly interested in getting wet.
“No,” Steve replied. “It’ll just take a few minutes to get there, and we can write a quick haiku.”
I didn’t respond, but quickened my step, as we made our way against the flow of walkers headed back to their cars.
“It’s this way,” he said, and pointed to a canopied path. “The trees will protect us from the rain.”
Normally, it would be a path I’d be drawn to–one that appeared to take us deep into a lush, green forest–even in the middle of the city. But as the patters began to fall on the leaves above us, I still wanted to turn back to the car.
Steve, however, forged forward.
Relieved, I began to hear the babble of a brook–until the drumming of rain on the “canopy” overwhelmed it.
“It’s raining,” I said.
Steve pulled out his iPhone and began typing. “I know. We’d better hurry.”
I pulled out my notebook and began to write, as raindrops plopped onto my page.
Typically, when I write a haiku, I write, then scribble it out, then write, then scribble it out, until the seventeen syllables all fit together just right.
Needless to say, that didn’t happen today, so what you see in my notebook is what you get. Sometimes it’s good to see how the sausage is made, right?
Oh, by the way, the second haiku is one I DID write when I got back to the car, soaking wet from our run back. Don’t you love the last line?
“See? I told you so.” 🙂
Click HERE to read the post that kicked off a month of writing haiku, in celebration of National Poetry Month.