Volume 36.3
Autumn 2005


sample haibun


One October Morning

Walking quickly from the parking lot between an office building and the railroad tracks, I noticed something on the sidewalk and stepped over it before its image fully formed in my mind. A bird, or a bird wing, perhaps.

Stopped, now, I turned and stared down at the small olive and black creature I’d just missed with one large foot. It seemed motionless, at first, but then I bent over and saw its small black eyes and tiny black needle of a beak shivering ever so slightly. It was alive, and probably still in shock from the heavy shadow that had just passed over it in the morning light.

Remembering injured birds held and petted as they lay still on their backs in my hand, I squatted down and slowly picked this one up, lifting it gently to about a foot above the concrete. Now the bird revived and quickly flew off to shelter in the adjacent bushes.

the kinglet weighs . . .
nothing in my hand
October chill

William J. Higginson

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