A stroll down Princess Street (continued)

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

fresh-baked dough

:

©️2018 Ontheland

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.

A stroll down Princess Street: haibun

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?

Cold dusk

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.

desolate

lone sapling

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.

hands clench

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.

:

©️2018 Ontheland

Rugged descent: haiku

:

worn soles

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

:

©️2018 Ontheland

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.

a window of memory: haibun

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!

hot s’mores

at trail end

sweet melts in snow

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

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”.

©️2018 Ontheland

on a winter trail: haiku

Happy to be included today on Troutswirl’s A Sense of Place: Hiking Trail — smell:

winter hike
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.

©️2018 Ontheland