New Zealand moves to Alert Level 2 on May 14, which gives us more freedoms – shops and cafes can open, we can socialise in groups of up to 10, etc – but it’s still restrictive. I suppose the fear is that if we move to ‘normal’ too quickly a second wave of coronavirus will break over us and we’ll have to go back to our self-isolating bubbles, which might be hard to do once they’re fully popped.
Our political leadership has been exemplary over this period – decisive and clear – but chaos is creeping in as we move into the lower Alert Levels. Too many people were out and about last weekend, despite Level 3 restrictions not being that different from those of Level 4. People queuing for junk food/coffee too close together, hundreds of people exercising/strolling on public footpaths. Sad and aggravating at the same time.
So not quite freedom, not yet. And now that I’m used to being at home all day and every day I’m finding it hard to get my head into the space beyond my own front gate!
Here are some haiku that celebrate the world outside that gate.
what would it hurt
to open the door
windflowers
Mimi Ahern
from Windflowers (Red Moon Press, 2020)
bobbing up the riverbank
the dust of a rabbit
skipping stones
Marion Moxham
from number eight wire (Piwakawaka Press, 2019)
the night sky
away from the campfire
our small words
paul m
from Another Trip Around the Sun (Brooks Books, 2019)
lakeside geese –
my map takes off
in the wind
Martha Magenta
from Presence 63 (2019)
Since I chose this haiku of Martha’s to use, I’ve heard of her death from cancer. Hopefully, she’s flying free now too.
field of dandelions
thousands of wishes
go unused
Adelaide B Shaw
from The Wonder Code (Girasole Press, 2017)
herd of deer
my road through
their togetherness
Mary Stevens
from The Heron’s Nest 22.1 (2020)
beach innings
three driftwood stumps
and a dog at mid on
Tony Beyer
from number eight wire
morning glory –
gently the postman
opens the gate
Robert Gilliland
from Another Trip Around the Sun
prairie canola
a hitchhiker cradles the name
of a far port
LeRoy Gorman
from Presence 66 (2020)
breath, a collection of haiku 