| Current Issue | About CHO | Editorial Staff & Guidelines | Submissions | Articles | Archives | Search |
January 2017, vol 12 no 4

| Contents This Issue | Next Haibun |

Tim Gardiner


It’s my first visit to the Malvern Hills. The farm where we’re staying is pleasant enough; geese scatter as I open the front gate, ivy smothers the tiny skylight window. A musty smell permeates the air inside the cottage, which is dark and cold despite the warm August sun. I hang my glow-in-the-dark skeleton from the bedroom door handle before we set off for an afternoon walk. Ascending the Herefordshire Beacon, tired legs cannot offset the excitement I feel about reaching the top of my first hill.

stiff breeze
taking the edge
off the view

Passing through lush woodland onto the open hillside, various types of butterfly are on the wing; shame I left my I-Spy book in the car. Despite the unsettling breeze, there are few clouds in the sky; perfect for spotting far off hills. A fighter jet passes below us, the sonic BOOM shattering our peace.

from luminous hills
the geese gone