Wet-Headed Woodpecker

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

Haiku: On Covid-19 Time

The old man, soon to be 80 years old, awakens on a Tuesday morning as he always does. He lies quietly in bed, listening to his wife’s soft breathing, and thanks God for this new day, her untroubled sleep, and their continuing health. Glancing at the sunlight on the sheer curtains, he sees promise of another typical hot summer day. But he also happily notes that days are finally growing a bit shorter now.

sunlit sheers…

a mockingbird’s song

starts a new day

©️Al W Gallia 2020

Wincing at a twinge of arthritic hip pain, he silently crawls out of bed, puts on his slippers, and eases down the long hall to the kitchen. The house is soundless as it always is each morning, except for a faint lawnmower. In a few minutes he holds a steaming cup of coffee in his hands, thankful for the modern ingenuity of his trusty K-cup coffee machine. After opening the sunroom and living room drapes, the old man moves to his favorite glider chair and sits to relish his coffee, meditate and pray, and consider the new day ahead.

In the stillness, he becomes aware of the endless ticking of the old wall clock, a sound that has become quite familiar and, perhaps, even friendly for the last six months. It has been that long since the old man and his wife of fifty plus years decided to self-quarantine themselves against the deadly coronavirus mercilessly ravaging the whole world. If it was solitude they wanted, they have it now in abundance! But he also thinks how blessed they and their family have been so far and gratefully thanks God again. Next, reflecting on the day ahead, he accepts the inevitable again: that this day will be much like all the other ‘pandemic’ yesterdays. It is like being in a submarine, he smiles, with the hatch closed and afraid to open it! Reciting the Serenity Prayer, he then takes a savoring sip of coffee, inhales the wafting aroma, and opens his daily haiku notebook…

tick tock tick tock…

the old clock taps out

another Covid day

©Al W Gallia 2020
On Covid-19 Time