dVerse Meeting the Bar host, Bjorn, asks us to write a Haibun–a blend of prose and Haiku.
Traveling the Eastern Sierra a Haibun Several times a year, I drive the 500 plus miles from Northern Nevada to Southern California snaking along the eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Every time, varying with the season of the year, vistas of delight surprise me, seduce my muse. Late winter, as I drove over Mammoth Lake pass:
I crest the summit—
mountains peaks span the view:
layers of meringue.
Throughout the year, Mt. Whitney oversees the halfway mark in my journey. Early May, this year, I arrived at sundown as the sun slipped behind her snowy crown. Clouds broke the light into distinct rays—as someone one said to me: “Like God in the movies.”
Her heights remind me
how utterly small I am,
how great Creation.
In spring, wildflowers of all colors abound on either side of the road. The lakes dotting the route fill up, if winter has been kind. Rivers flow over rocks, around boulders. Ducks and geese bob on Little Lake—a sheet of emerald in the midst of bright red lava mounds.
I drive by quickly,
ignoring the urge to stop—
a woman, alone.
In summertime, mirages float across the steaming highway. Hawks and eagles circle lazily above, searching for rodents, snakes or road-kill. The desert regions expand in all directions once you hit the Mojave.
Joshua trees stretch
their crooked arms heavenward,
begging for relief.
In autumn the array of colors stuns me—brilliant oranges complement the turquoise blue of Lake Topaz. Flaming yellow aspens creep up crevasses into the mountain gorges.
Water smooth as silk,
mirror-like reflections, clouds
float on her surface.