Silently Waiting
Driving at one in the morning, I look up to see Venus, bright at first, then dim as thin clouds pass before her. I think to write a poem about this as I sit in the waiting room of the ER with nothing more than my phone. As I compose an email to myself, my thoughts are pulled away from planets and stars by the replay of a basketball game from the previous day. The room remains nearly empty, no more than a patient at a time entering or leaving the room, leaving me the lone planet filling the space. But my mind keeps going back to the game, and it works its way into my poem.
Concerns for the wounded are allayed, and it’s time to head home. At three in the morning, the moon sits high in the sky, hazy but unwilling to let the clouds keep it from offering comfort on the drive home.
nearly full
silently waiting
flower moon
This haibun is my response to Haibun Monday 5-24-21: Flower moon, the prompt from Frank Tassone at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.
An injury at work meant a trip to the ER for my stepdaughter. No broken bones, but a muscle strain means rest for her. Ron. is right – hospitals have a way of inspiring poetry. This one gave me a haibun, as well as a poem I wrote while in the waiting room. Unfortunately there is no photo of that moon, as I was driving.
rivrvlogr 
I love how the moon gave you comfort going back…so glad it went well for your stepdaughter.
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Thank you. Yes, the moon seemed to take the edge off of things.
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Pleased to hear your stepdaughter is ok. I love the contrast of the peaceful atmosphere of the moon and planets with the tension of the ER.
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Thank you, Ingrid. Nature has a way of balancing things.
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I like how you describe yourself as a ‘lone planet’ – (I don’t imagine ER often gets compared to cosmic space). Happy to see that your visit there wasn’t for anything too serious – I hope your stepdaughter recovers from her strain quickly.
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Thank you. I was surprised to see the ER relatively empty, but I guess that’s a hit-or-miss thing.
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Reblogged this on Frank J. Tassone and commented:
The subdued anxiety of hospital waiting pervades your eloquent write. I’m glad that your stepdaughter is alright.
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Thank you for sharing, Frank.
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I’m glad your stepdaughter is OK. And I love that the moon offered you comfort.
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Thank you, Merril. Even steadfast and firm, the moon is always in transition, just as we are.
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💙
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“But my mind keeps going back to the game, and it works its way into my poem”
My favourite line.
Happy Monday Ken. Thanks for dropping bybto read mine
Much💚love
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Thank you, Gillena. 🙂
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I love this unveiling of your thought processes … also the way you worded the ending: “unwilling to let the clouds keep it from offering comfort“
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Thank you. If only more people were like the moon, in that respect.
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The two poems make a nice pair – and example of turning unplanned stalls into productive writing sessions. A writer is blessed with few needed tools to pursue the craft wherever/whenever a bit of time arrives. (My phone “Notes” is a ready journal when I must stay put in odd places – no cell service or pen or writing surface required…)
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Thank you. My android keyboard has a mic feature (speech recognition). Fortunately I was alone, so I could use it.
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Pretty sure I could dictate to my phone … but how to then tweak word choices and sequences … my mind wants either pen with enough margin on paper for revising … or keys to punch for revising … my inner editor insists!
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Ah yes, inspiration like the Flower Moon, rises out of chaos and darkness, to create its own light. The poem was a bit vague about who “the wounded” might be. I thought maybe demonstrators or victims of a mass shooting.
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Thank you, Glenn. These are dark times, aren’t they, that it’s easy for our thoughts to go in that direction.
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No matter what’s going on with us mere watchers, she’s always up there, usually smiling, but at least BEING THERE for us, no matter what, eh? Glad all is well, Ken.
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Thanks, Ron.. Yes, there, and easily considered, whether visible or not.
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Oh, the lonely planet image was really powerful. So glad all is well, even if the flowering moon is unable to offer any solace.
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Thank you. Even a lonely planet is not alone in the cosmos, but it can seem that way when things are still.
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Oh, those lines take me away….
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🙂 Thank you!
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Sorry to hear of your step-daughter’s injuries. Hope she heals well. The moon high in the sky at night is an awesome sight. Great haibun and your haiku waiting metaphor works very well.
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Glad you were there when your stepdaughter needed you, Ken. It’s ironic that something so far away can be “grounding.”
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“grounding” — I like that thought. Thank you, Lisa.
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You’re welcome.
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thank you for sharing this moment with us, Ken. i am glad the stepdaughter is okay and the moon kept you company.
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Thank you. 🙂
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I’m so sorry to read about your stepdaughter, Ken, I hope she is recovering well, and I’m glad you got an excellent moon haibun out of your visit to the hospital.
My son-in-law was admitted to hospital on Sunday night with a collapsed lung. He’s still there, and my daughter is not allowed to visit because of Covid, but it would be difficult with a three-year-old. I have my fingers crossed that he’ll be allowed to go home later today.
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Thank you, Kim. It was an interesting night. There’s no bruising, so hopefully it’s a muscle strain and not a torn ligament. She’s recovering with a couple of days off from work.
I hope the cause of your son-in-law’s condition is found and that he is doing better.
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Thanks Ken. They’ve removed the tube and clamped it but he can’t go home yet.
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Wonderful yet chaotic prose, excellent haiku Ken!
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🙂 Thanks, Rob.
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It is an atmosphere that leads one to thinking. And you’ve captured the paths those thoughts can take. I’m glad your stepdaughter is OK. (K)
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Thank you, Kerfe. Writing can be a nice distraction.
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It’s a balm for many situations.
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Lovely to have the moon waiting with you 🙂
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It was. Thank you, Jane.
I’m sure it’s just the way my mind works, but if I could have I would have pulled over on the highway to take that photo – it looked so beautiful in a yellow haze. But getting someone home to rest was far more important than admiring a photo later.
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Wise decision. The moon shines whether we snap it or not.
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Anything can inspire a poem. Glad your granddaughter is okay.
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Thank you, Mary. Recovering slowly with a couple of days off.
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I didn’t get to see the Flower Moon, due to rain. Speedy recovery to your daughter. You’ve brought to mind two different times I was visiting hospice rooms… Waiting is difficult.
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Thank you. Even when things are simple, being in those waiting rooms is like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
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For many years I was the driver for a relative and a neighbor for appointments… I’m not fond of those waiting rooms either.
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