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Volume 44.1
Winter-Spring 2013

 

sample haibun

 

Falling

Each day, I sit beneath the spread limbs of an old oak. Branches entwine my arms and legs, feet and fingers, till I hardly know where blood begins and wood ends, where veins become gnarly roots, where loved ones dropping to the ground around me become perfect acorns capped in brown.

letting in
the stillness
my leaves turn


by Renee Owen

 

 

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