haibun

| Current Issue | About CHO | Editorial Staff & Guidelines | Submissions | Articles | Archives | Search |
October 2018, vol 14 no 3

| Contents This Issue | Next |


Iliyana Stoyanova

The Wind Rises

A little yellow plane. Plastic not metal. My favourite possession. That time the Ghibli* lasted only one night and in the morning all streets and roofs were covered in fine reddish sand. I was dragging my feet through the almost icing sugar-like sand – warm, inviting and delicious to look at. And then my sandals caught something. I picked it up, cleaned the dust and saw the most beautiful toy I had ever seen. It had no markings, broken wings and yet it was perfect.

Over the next few days Dad not only repaired my plane but also built me a mini airport – with its own runway, tiny buildings and a car park for my precious auto collection. My little yellow plane was lost no more. Through the night storm somehow it found home.

Daddy, don’t you recognize these photos? You took them. And I’m still your little girl. I don’t care about the photos but I do hope you still remember my name.

dusty shelf
twilight shape shifts his pipes
into sand dunes


Note: The Ghibli is a hot, dry, usually south to southeasterly dust-bearing desert wind, which occurs in Libya throughout the year, but most frequently in spring and early summer.


logo