Note from an exile - Presence (haibun)

Note from an exile - Presence

October and a few gulls seem like they're cut out of the low hanging clouds. What feast for the eye to see a few crows and ravens making their way to where ever they go. Even if it's only from one tree to another. In October they often remind me of an imagined medieval scenery. Cloaked knights on big horses riding to or back from a gruesome deed. De Sammensvorne rider fra Finderup Lade efter mordet på Erik Klipping i 1286 / The Conspirators rides away from the barn at Finderup after the murder of Erik Klipping in 1286. A sad excuse for daylight comes through the windows as if it couldn't care less. On days like these I check my pulse, my birth date against the date on various electronic calendars and the news and usually conclude I'm alive. I step out a bit to feel the weather and assure myself it's there. No more no less.

lukewarm coffee

there is no horoscope

for the Black Dog