Category: Rustic

Mosquitoes Humming

On By Al W GalliaIn Faith, God, Haibun, Haiku, Life, Rustic, Simplicity, Uncategorized 
rain drips
from the thatched roof
smell of cooking rice
Al W Gallia

She lives simply in jungle, subsisting mostly on nature’s sometimes meager bounty. Hers is a never ending hard life with very little time for leisure activities as she must provide for her children and aging parents. She has no electricity or other utility services. Her husband is seldom home.

steaming heat…
in the bamboo forest
a hacking machete
Al W Gallia

Today, regardless of weather, she hoists her fifty pound basket onto her back and starts her weekly trek to the local marketplace to sell or trade. Her sandals are worn and loose on her feet. Yet she hums and trudges on, thankful for all God has given her.

wild pig squealing…
a jet plane’s contrail above
the jungle canopy
Al W Gallia

And life goes on, as it always has for countless generations around our world.

A Desert Walk

On By Al W GalliaIn Haibun, Haiku, Nature, Rustic, Uncategorized, Walkabout2 Comments

In response to: Your Daily Prompt for March 6: Chafe

The hot dry wind spins the squeaking windmill without rest. The weathered cabin shudders from an unusually hard gust, and a horned lizard in the shade closes its eyes. After drying the sweatband of my hat, I sip from my canteen. It has been a good day.

desert trail…
the hot sand inside my boots
chafing my tired feet
Al W Gallia

Wet-Headed Woodpecker

On By Al W GalliaIn Aging, God, Haibun, Haiga, Haiku, jesus, Nature, Nostalgia, Rustic, Spirituality, Trees, Uncategorized

My friends…many of the haiku I am prompted to write arise from visual experiences as my wife, Bobbie, and I travel in our motorhome RV. If we see something special and meaningful while I drive, she takes photos! Posts like this are collaborative, with a bit of embellishment on my part, and works well for us! Her capture of this old tree along the roadside was my prompt in this haiku/haiga/haibun. Thanks, sweetheart..

Thunder slowly rolls into the distance after the cold rain storm. The old tree never wavered but held its ground as it has for over a hundred years. Water dribbles down its remaining bark, winding through old ridges and crevices and onto the anthill below. A crow circles the tree once and flies on. Somewhere across the field, a cow moos.

storm clouds pass…

a woodpecker’s head

in a dripping hole

©Al W Gallia

I pull back my rain hood, breathe the fresh, crisp air, and walk out from the dilapidated cow shed toward my grandparent’s house across the field. From their chimney, the north wind carries the aroma of woodsmoke and bacon! Picking up my pace, I have a happy “thank you, Lord” in my heart.

the old limbless tree

warms in bright winter sun…

woodsmoke on the breeze

©Al W Gallia