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Cape Cod, United States
__I see with young eyes, an old mirror. Here, I hope to offer... as I see.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Fog and Flute

Departure #6
__From the summer of 2005, my fictitious legend of a central Connecticut Native clansman.
_m


__Sunset had taken the day's warmth, and cold slid down the mountainside, out and over the pond's water where a fog was born, layering itself low and close, and filling the pond's hollow... resting in this bowl of trees. The song of a flute pierced the fog, and as I gazed across the water toward the music's heart, two fires peered back through the formless haze.
__As sunrise came, I slid my canoe across the pond and cut the water to the pond's far side where we Tunxi knew our spirits gathered. There, I walked this ground of the fog and flute, and I stood at the place of the night fire's dance.
__No traces of fires spent, or gathered wood, nor ashes or sooted rocks... nothing spoke of the fog and flute at this site of the dancing fires. There were only a dog's footprints in the sand among the stones, a pace trail that mapped its night's restless roving... footfalls, claw marks pointing outward into the fog of the night that once was.

morning
seeped into a sleepless dream
this spirit called

__An instant's haze claimed the stony point, and piercing through that moment's vapor came the song of the flute, and the dance of the fires; quickly the music faded to a song of silence.

__Then, there came a black dog, and it sat at my moccasins. He rose to his haunches... and in his eyes shown the dancing fires. His forelegs were thrust outward, and across them lay the flute... his offering to me.
__I grasped the flute; I knew the fires of this dream would join me.
__In one motion I launched my canoe, and rolled to my knees in the canoe's bottom. I pulled the first paddle stroke above the stillness; on the second stroke I looked up... and there the black dog's spirit had joined me. He had become my image. In the trust of my mind's dream, I am the song of the fog and flute, I am in the trance of these dancing fires.

becoming one
the dream and the soul
a paddle stroke

13 comments:

TALON said...

This had a beautiful lyricism that went perfectly with the legend, D. So many wonderful descriptions and the two beautiful haiku were the perfect accents.

John McDonald said...

excellent M
john

Devika said...

Beautiful writing, Magyar :)

On a small break from blogging, but had to stop and say,

wishes,
devika

sandy said...

Oh, this was good. You left me wishing I was there listening to the flute.

Gillena Cox said...

more, more; this was so good
much love...

Magyar said...

__I was raised in the township of Winchester, in Connecticut's
NW corner. The Tunxi migrated to central CT, part of the Wappinger Clan... (Wapping NY.)
__I've had a long interest in the New England native clan's histories.
__K, Dev, Sandy, and John... your comments are so very important to me, and I sincerly thank you!
_m

Magyar said...

Gillena... OOOPS! My comment and your's bumped into each other! ;-}
__Thanks to you too Gillena! I'm so glad you enjoyed this haibun!

Much love, right back to you! _m

Judie said...

I can hear the plaintive sounds of the flute floating over the water.

Lorraine said...

beautiful music you write, stunning

Maxine Beneba Clarke said...

So wonderfully tranquil, Magyar. I needed this one today!

Ralf Bröker said...

Very mysterious. Somehow like the dream a shaman, somehow on the way of Lewis Carrol's phantasy. I think, thousands of psychologists would like to interpret this story, but to me it's just a great haibun with great words, _m.

Best wishes
Ralf

Magyar said...

Judie,
__The flute... pleeding one to follow, thank you my dear friend.

Lorraine,
__Beautiful music, the songful saga of life's search, you are an understanding friend!

Ralf,
__A comparison to Lewis Carrol? An astounding yet implausible parallel, and I thank you so... !

__Maxine... welcome again, so glad this 'scribble thought' brought some ease today!

Best wishes to you all!

Janice Thomson said...

A beautiful haibun. Felt I was drifting inside a shaman's meditation. A special heartfelt write Doug.