haibun

| Current Issue | About CHO | Editorial Staff & Guidelines | Submissions | Articles | Archives | Search |
January 2019, vol 14 no 4

| Contents This Issue | Next |



Glenn G. Coats

Solitude

There are two large paintings on one wall, almost identical, each one with two groves of trees divided by a river. I see distant hills, open areas of meadow grass, and patches of flowers near the forefront.

The painting on the left is dull, grays in the water, hills fading into sky. There are no sharp edges or shadows, no reflections flashing in the current. Dusk.

I turn to search for my wife’s name on the hospital monitor. Her first and last names are abbreviated. She is in a recovery room. An attendant will guide me to her in twenty minutes.

The other picture is more in focus, trees and shadows are sharper, hills are separate, distinct. I am drawn to the water, reds and purples, ripples of light. The sun is coming up. I know now, it must be morning, and that alone, I will hold on to.

a whistle
to call me back
river mist


logo