At my new place of posting, I feel alone where the language is all Greek
to me! I try to switch back to the prehistoric style of communication by
murmuring my lips and moving my fingers. She is kind enough to guess and points
me towards the restaurant. When I look back with due acknowledgement, she does
the same with a sense of confirmation.
travel phrase book
I treasure for my own
I recount
walking down the street
the vendor’s wide smile
Haibun Today, Vol.13 No. 2 2019 (Ed. Tim Gardiner)
There is no
excitement, joy, or new discovery in the speaker's "incessant
journey," just one after "another (same old) sunset" when the
speaker "long[s] to change the taste/of salt, the colour of the
wind."
A fresh tanka about an incessant journey of sameness.
Today's poetic food for thought on journey:
Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.