The city bustled
with gossip and news;
Vesuvius throbbed
PM
Escape? Where to? How?
Fear pulsed now as darkened skies
breathed gassy poisen.
EVENING
The city, news, life
are quiet now; buried. Time
entombed; wonder born.
The patterns of our memory are shaped by vivid moments which we can recall like photographs even though the surrounding events are lost to us. Photographs trap moments of time and in a different way so do haiku. Both can be distillations of truth;both fascinate me.