Near the bottom of Princess Street, in shivering twilight, the atmosphere shifts. Warm tendrils of aroma fill the air.
over the crosswalk
a heavenly realm
More haiku about aromas in the city can be found today at A Sense of Place: City Sidewalk–smell. I have another olfactory haiku included there (listed alphabetically by first name–janice).
The image of the wood-fired pizza oven is from Pixabay.
I live 30 minutes west of a small city of 150,000 people. Walking down the main drag, called “Princess Street”, I remember my previous life in Toronto, my home for over 30 years.
It is early twilight on a November afternoon. I am in town to take a ‘haiku stroll’ for this week’s Sense of Place writing event. The air is biting cold. Not fully prepared, I promise myself to wear warmer gloves and a scarf next time.
In the descending dusk I feel caught in a void between the warmth of daylight and the glitter of night lighting. I beg the street lamps to turn on. After a few blocks I sigh with relief as they do, but there is still a lackluster feel to this outing. Is it me or the people around me?
eyes barely lift
along the sidewalk
In the summer, baskets of flowers liven up the street but today the only signs of vegetation are barren trees.
by the curb
This small city is not spared from homelessness, a worse predicament here than in a larger city with more services, I imagine. I marvel at how people are panhandling with no blankets or chairs.
seated on frozen cement
by her cardboard sign
My walk is a short “U” down towards the lake and up again to my target, a warm coffee shop.
on a rocky descent
prayer grips each rock
(Troutswirl, A Sense of Place: Hiking Trail–touch, November 21, 2018)
on the downslope
balancing between rocks and sky
trees extend hands
Those who relate to these haiku may have hiked down a steep, rocky forest trail with less than full-grip boots and/or a tender sense of balance.
The wood fire, a girl guide log cabin lay, is a miracle of flame and heat in a deep pit of snow. Bundled trekkers huddle in the dappled clearing knee deep in fresh powder. Our frozen faces, fingers and toes tingle as the long day winds down with a winter cookout, a WINTER cookout, how amazing are these foil packets we cradle in our hands!
at trail end
sweet melts in snow
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A s’more is campfire treat of roasted marshmallow on chocolate between graham crackers.
My haiku, that concludes this haibun, appears with others on the theme of ‘taste’ in Kathy Munro’s November 14, 2018 post on Troutswirl: “A sense of place: HIKING TRAIL – taste”.
Happy to be included today on Troutswirl’s A Sense of Place: Hiking Trail — smell:
wrapped in a knitted scarf
the smell of wet wool
In ‘real’ time we are not wrapping wool scarves around our faces yet, but this is a sensation renewed for me almost every year…when the thermometer dips below freezing and the only way to seal out a winter wind is to wrap a scarf.
I wrote this haiku for The Haiku Foundation blog series: Sense of Place. The theme is HIKING TRAIL–hearing. My haiku is included with 99 others (a reader’s feast) in Kathy Munro’s post of October 31, available at: The Haiku Foundation Troutswirl.
line of chatter
winding down the trail