Composition notes:

This poem took a long time to take shape. It’s been through a number of different iterations as free verse poem. I think with the Haibun I have found the appropriate vehicle.

Our grand farmhouse stands at the crossroads of town that is no more. Only stone buildings remain – us and the old hall. The family that built the house were immigrants seeking freedom from religious troubles and the whims of petty kings in Central Europe. They brought with them new notions of faith and built things to last.

Clearing the Bridal Creeper from the Honeysuckle hedge one year, we came across an old beer bottle placed “just so” at its base.  It put me in mind of a placation, to spirits or old household gods because even new faith carries old baggage.

dancehall tunes

shadows drink at the light’s edge

The mayor, a descendant, laughed and told us of the old bylaw that said alcohol couldn’t be taken within 200 yards of the hall.

Comments:

First published in Poetry and Place Anthology 2015