Sunday drivers

Photo 1947 film. The egg and I

A trip to Clifton Springs is usually just a short dash along the highway. Today though it was hot, and all the Sunday drivers seemed lost, or unwilling to get a move on. All they could do was tootle along – one foot poised over the brake pedal – ready to stop in case road workers were actually at work. Too often, in the rush to finish work on Friday, signs – warning construction is underway – are left in-situ instead of being locked away at the end of the last shift. What happened today was an example of worker laxity. Unnecessarily signs were left out. This is just another reason to avoid the people who timidly drive one day in the week.

Fire warnings today

Sunlit dried silver grass lies flat

No snowflakes in sight


Basho haibun poem. ( saekaeru) Definitely not celebrating a return to icy weather, but what can you write on this topic at the beginning of autumn? A paragraph of prose, finished with a haiku with a hint of the same theme.


Perhaps you will pause and comment. I will thank you.

For Frank Tassone’s haikai challenge.

https://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=fjtassone2&postid=15Feb2020&meme=12860

Published by

seasiders22

I walk to think of something to write. It is personal. It is all about me,

2 Comments

  1. If you have the time, I have a Kindle book of poetry called “Poems from the Heart” by Nicole Earle amd Steve (wazza) Warwick). I would like your opinion of it. My son helped me publish since my IT knowledge is poor. Love the 1947 pic. I would have been seven years old then. cheers.

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  2. Thank you for your comment. Having read your last comment first I add that I will leave it stand. It is good to hear from anyone about the word trail I have left. Like crumbs left on the forest floor by the woodcutter’s children some are probably tasteless but many have thin skins. Back to your entry. I will look for your book. Congratulations. Any comment I might make on it would be unqualified pap. The pic appealed first because the traffic yesterday was like a picnic-in-the-park pace. Finally we are of a similar age it seems.

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