Seems that I’ve disappeared into fiction..really not sure about this for a Haibun, but I wanted to respond and time was running out..
Sun was overhead, good and strong. Mistress Charlotte and little Anne were stood with their feet in the stream twisting the linen between them till their hands were rubbed red. I spread my garments and two sheets over the thorn hedge, birds flitting here and there, John’s chopping and splitting sounding in the copse. A good time to go. I pulled on my shoes and ran over to the woodpile. In the corner under the thatch my fingers felt for that little piece of silk that I’d embroidered with her name. The family tree would not show the bud that would have grown into a branch.
Up on the moor, by the spring, stood our wishing tree. Bent with age it spread it’s arms to greet me. I knelt by the spring and let my fingers cool, I wiped my forehead and Maggie’s silk with that holy water. Many ribbons and charms hung from it’s branches as I tied my silk to join them. “Bless the family cradle again,” I whispered..
even the bonsai tree
has a crown of blossom