His grizzled hair is wet and seated on the sidewalk he observes how pedestrians try to look the other way. His skin, is spotty leather and his sunken rib cage holds a shriveled heart, barely beating. He have learned that also hearts of steel can rust
He watches their feet, in staccato drumbeats on his street, hurrying for mindless appointments, for eastbound spreadsheets, for southward powerpointing or maybe northbound taxilines. He recalls how his mind was occupied with diamond cufflinks in exchange for another pink slip to an underling once. He remembers how he offered politicians dinner in exchange for another tax-cut. When he sent old workers off to charity.
“Greed was good”, he whispers to his mutt, and shares a piece of rain-soaked bread. With eyes as green as they where before he observes how grime have settled under his fingernails, and he remembers how he raped his manicurist. A beginning of his end.
Suddenly he notices a pair of canvas shoes that have stopped in front of him. A teenage girl bends down, protecting him with her pink umbrella. Without a word she hands him a steaming cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun. When he meets her green eyes he understands that it’s time for him to leave.
protected from rain —
a sparrow nesting
in the scarecrow’s beard
Tomorrow it’s haibun Monday on dVerse and Mary offer us a choice of different pictures. All having to do with water. The prompt will open at 3 PM EST and will remain open for a whole week. I know that the haiku is not 575, but I have tried to fit a proper kigo and a cuttingword.
December 6, 2015