A Quarterly Journal of Contemporary English Language Haibun
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December 2008, vol 4 no 4

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Hortensia Anderson



The sun melts across the bay, spreading a patina of copper. Wind rustles through the trees, carrying the last rays of light with the first shadows.

As ripples reflect the burnished sky, I want to hold this fleeting moment the way I hold a leafy fern that has been kept for millennia in amber.

antique violin—
a chunk of rosin
beside the bow

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