my friends’ coiffure: a haiku (and a prose)

trees wavingwaving grinning wide

faithful greeting by roadside

winter soon here bye

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Trees are my friends. These two are sort of cute, with their rather unusual rust-brown color and the way they lean toward the road with their almost identical formation of branches and clusters of leaves, making me wonder if a hairdresser for trees has done their coiffure. How did they grow to be so alike? Have they decided to dress alike for autumn? I marvel. Many years ago I used to jog in a reservoir park and on one occasion I saw a fallen tree. It used to stand alone by the side of the lake. Sometimes a lone bird perched on its rather tired looking branch. But that morning it was lying on the ground, toppled by the previous night’s storm. I went closer and saw that its centre was hollow. How could that be? How long did it try to remain standing and faithfully greeted me (and other joggers) daily while struggling with a hollow heart? But this pair are thankfully together and they look thrivingly young. I hope they will last a long long time. I like the way they stand out with their heads stubbornly full of hair (leaves) among all the others who have shed their leaves and become bald (bare) in a season of despair.

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