Chuck Brickley
Needles
“Ponderous?” Tug interjects, unbelting his tools by the crew cab. “There you go again, using a word nobody’s ever heard of. Ponderous?”
Since five this morning a dozen of us have been yakkin’ away while planting Douglas fir seedlings up and down a steep, slashburned slope, and are–to a man, to a woman–ornery, tired and sweaty. Our shift may be done, but Tug isn’t.
“I bet you just made up that word,” he asserts, as we join the others heading toward a stream in the shade. “Go on, hippie, tell us! What the hell does ponderous mean?”
“A male pine tree.”
snow runoff we leave our twelve pack to the bear
About the Author
Chuck Brickley’s collection of haiku, earthshine (Snapshot Press, 2017), won a Touchstone Distinguished Book Award and Honorable Mentions in the Haiku Society of America Merit Book Award and Haiku Canada’s Marianne Bluger Book Award contests. His haibun have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Sonders’ Best Small Fictions. He is currently the HSA contest coordinator and a judge for the Haiku Foundation’s Touchstone Award for Individual Poems. www.chuckbrickley.com.
Chuck! That’s hilarious! The last comment subtly bringing the erudite writer down to the level of the unlettered guy in a humorous way. And the haiku another surprise! Not wanting to hang around to rescue their beer, opting not to argue with Mr Bear. Knowing Sierra bears I’m sure they know how to get into beer cans!