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Culture

Poem on Sunday: Haiku (hike-oo) from the Camino de Santiago

04 May 2025 2 minute read
Group with Backpacks Walking on the Way of St James Towards Galicia, Spain. Photo: Burkard Meyendriesch, Pexels

Julie Brominicks

1)

Him with the black hat,
Hola and gruff nod, washing
his boots in Basque rain

2)

Just these horses now,
where bear and bison bones call
from underground caves

3)

They sing their love songs;
corn buntings. Ripe and plump as
the moon that brought frost

4)

Fumbling for her phone;
so cold the nun’s hands as she
shares us on Facebook!

5)

The sky was ragged
as stork feathers the day
we heard the hoopoe

6)

Pigeons occupy
one of the straggly stork nests.
Is this not a coup?

7)

On wooden chairs
in a wooden bar we eat from
paper tablecloths

8)

Some six hundred grapes
in each bottle, so like us
the vines sleep it off

9)

I think about them
the ones left behind; friends, the
French girl, and the dead

10)

Eating up the klicks
Tip-tip tapping of the sticks
Driving is for dicks

11)

To feel sad like this
while flocking petals presume
to float like snow

12)

From inside the church

bird anthems are heard and a
tractor spreading prayers

13)

Beneath our feet are
small ants and in line behind
some tiny pilgrims

14)

At the journey’s end
I looked up and saw a gull
showing me the way


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Professor Linden Peach
Professor Linden Peach
12 days ago

Walking beneath
What we presume
Finding the missed

Julie B
Julie B
12 days ago

What a wonderful response!

Mab Meirion
Mab Meirion
12 days ago

A road less traveled…

A path less trod…

A fork seldom taken…

An endless plod…

A kink in the tunnel…

No light at the end…

To stop the horse from bolting…

They inserted a bend…

One hears it still

The carriage driver’s prayer…

When descending Shooter’s Hill…

Please God just get us there…

Julie B
Julie B
12 days ago
Reply to  Mab Meirion

Magnificent, thank you!

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