Andrew Riutta
Salt
For Laura Stamps
I believe some of us were made for quieter things.
Steeped roots and berries. Wood thrushes. A tiny
poplar sapling grove and September sun blasting
all that tenderness with dangerous radiation. Old Dutch
potato chips. Moss-covered coyote skulls. Tiger’s eye
marbles and a squeaky wagon in which to carry them.
Soft pine shadows. Bumblebees. Dogs lapping rainwater
from potholes that go straight through earth to Tibet,
where it’s believed that God the Father is mostly
the perpetual cosmic wind at the summit of Mount
Everest. Where the stones teach the old monks how
to keep meditating even years after death.
during my nap
it comes and goes
another war
About the Author

Andrew Riutta was born and raised in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. His latest book, Blessed: Modern Haibun on Almost Every Despair (Red Moon Press, 2022) was shortlisted for the Touchstone Distinguished Book Award and won the HSA Merit Book Award for best haibun collection. Currently, he lives in Gaylord and is a Catholic school custodian.
This haibun should be in a poetry textbook under “Imagery.”