Lorraine Haig
Beneath the Surface
Do you remember the time we slowly made our way down river, the houseboat tracking the ribbon of sky between the canopies? That was when I decided to go up top, to be closer to the trees and the birds. I could feel the pulse of the motors and hear the swish of the bow as it cut through the current. I think I told you about the eagle that drifted down to the water, its talons lifting a big fish. It carried its load over the ochre cliffs, perhaps to its hungry brood. What I didn’t tell you was the gentle grip on my right shoulder, how I turned thinking one of the others had decided to keep me company, but no one was there.
dark hallway
light seeps from under
the door
About the Author
Lorraine Haig’s haiku, tanka, and haibun appear in journals worldwide. She has a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. Curving into Light, her first haiku collection, was published by Forty South in 2023. She is the recipient of a 2024 Touchstone Award for individual haibun.