We’re driving into a Monet painting. Crimson, gold, apricot, amber swirled all around us in one dizzying blur. We are Leaf Peepers, a name that still cracks us up on day 3, transported into this east coast masterpiece from our desert land for a few more days. We didn’t have kids yet, remember? No double tow-headed 16-months-apart “Are we there yet?” or “when’s lunch?” or as we know now, teenaged eyeroll: “You guys, this is so boring.” Just you, and me, and the trees. Color everywhere. And the rain. Oh, the rain, a fine light mist at first, and then a quiet drizzle, falling sliding slipping from these color palette branches as if it were translucent paint. Wish we’d known just how free we were when we linked hands and walked through all that autumn magic.

A lone loon calls
across an orange patchwork pond
trickled in sky



Toni is our Haibun Monday host, where we’re writing about shades of rain. Come play! 



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35 Responses to Kisame

  1. whimsygizmo says:

    Kisame is the Japanese word for rain that drips from tree branches. It just doesn’t get more poetic than that.

  2. Shawna says:

    “Wish we’d known just how free we were when we linked hands and walked through all that autumn magic.” … I know, right?!

    • whimsygizmo says:

      Sigh. Today, I would sell them both for a song. Or a large pizza.

      • Shawna says:

        Well, if we’re being honest, we might pay someone to take them. 😉 For a day or two, anyway. My oldest is at camp, and I miss her already. I hear she’s having a great time and is doing very well. And I’m jealous … jealous of the people getting to watch her have fun. Isn’t that silly? I can’t have their every single second for the rest of their lives! But I kind of want them all … just, somehow magically with a few breaks finagled in there. I want all of this … just not quite so smashed into a big ball of never-letting-Momma-sleep-or-have-any-personal-space. And it is driving me crazy right now that I can hardly get any time with my husband. I hate it when I’m dying to hang out with him, ’cause it’s nearly impossible to make it happen. That “longing for your husband” bit is seriously an awful curse.

      • Shawna says:

        Mmm. Pizza sounds really good. 🙂

        We just had popcorn for dinner. I’m such an awful mom. 😛

      • whimsygizmo says:

        I LOVE popcorn for dinner. I hate dinner. When I grow up, I’m gonna have my main meal at lunchtime (or a little after) every day. Evenings is no time to try to decide “what’s for dinner.” and a terrible time to eat the biggest meal of the day.

      • whimsygizmo says:

        I long for mine, all the time.
        And you’re gonna hate me, but next week (Monday morning drop off through Friday evening pickup), mine are both at camp. And my husband swears he’s gonna be off work. And we are just staying home, to hide-bernate and binge watch Game of Thrones and eat takeout and such. I seriously cannot wait.

  3. kanzensakura says:

    How gorgeous this is. The Monet painting landscape and that haiku. I can just hear it across the way. How you instill your uniqueness into this – falling, sliding, slipping..oh my

  4. Jesus..
    RainS noW
    remindS mE
    so much of
    Orlando and
    Disney World noW..

    i wannA
    jUSt puT mY
    MicKy earS oN..:)

  5. Not just a story of desert vs a temperate zone, but a story of life and how to capture the past. I love the feeling of traveling a Monet painting.

  6. thotpurge says:

    Loved it.. right from the first line to the orange patchwork pond… perfect!

  7. Michael says:

    This is very excellent De…..loved the metaphor of driving into a Monet painting….fabulous image to contemplate. Excellent reflection on the moment.

  8. kim881 says:

    A touch of whimsical nostalgia, De. I love the haiku – I can imagine the orange patchwork pond trickling into sky.

  9. lillian says:

    LOVE this! You’ve captured the New England colors so very well…..and the rain too, on those magnificent leaves, like translucent paint. The haiku is the frosting on the cake here — I know the metaphor doesn’t fit with the rains — but this is just all too delicious! 🙂

  10. Grace says:

    Love the way you color the canvas with lush palette and the sounds of rain and calls of the loon across the orange patchwork pond. Wow De!

  11. Rosemary Nissen-Wade says:

    What a magical recollection!

  12. Misky says:

    This made me smile endlessly at the memories it brought back of my boys. Thanks for that, De. >

  13. Laura Bloomsbury says:

    love the allusion to leaf peepers and the shared secret – so much nostalgia in your kisame

  14. kanzensakura says:

    This is just a beautiful and nostalgic haibun. I love the rain as paint dripping from the leaves, the Monet landscape, the orange patchwork pond, the loon….heck. I love all of it. Simply gorgeous and I lovelovelove how you put your uniqueness in this – falling, sliding, slipping….marvelous.

  15. It even reads like a Monet painting! Your palette of words is astounding!

  16. Oh I love this…heading right into a Monet. So evocative.

  17. I love the thought of walking into a Monet painting. And I’m with you on the pains of bringing up teenagers.

  18. ihatepoetry says:

    This was as perfect and as light and delicate as that mist. Children are wonderful, but there’s nothing like being alone with your partner, just the two of you exploring the world. Loved this.

  19. This is such a beautiful memory framed in the present. Love the orange patchwork pond. 🙂

  20. Bryan Ens says:

    “Trickled in sky” – what a gorgeous line!

  21. lynn__ says:

    Admiring this impressionistic masterpiece in the gallery of rainy haibuns…beautiful, De!

  22. I love this! The haiku is brilliant!

  23. Mish says:

    Divine imagery here. I absolutely love the thought of driving into a painting.
    I am enjoying the freedom of being an empty nester, eating dinner when and if we want to. It is the best and worst of times…missing those eye rolls.

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