An extra for line breaks 6/7.2.2018

Bright Day Haibun


I rise to let the cat out. She is lethargic and resists. I push her out the door anyway. I don’t want her scratching at my bedroom door in another half an hour or so. She disappears briefly and now that I am ready to throw myself back into the sack, as they say, she is ready to come back in. I say a firm “no”. She understands every word I say but just stands there anyway.


As I head back to the bedroom I can hear other late risers gathering on the deck next door. Coughs and goofs commensurate after a late night. I see most of them are wearing dark glasses. They must have been sitting there half an hour or more. Now they head to their cars. The street becomes itself again, quiet, sleepy, urban. The cat has already settled on the bottom step ignoring me. I again test the flick lock.


blindfold raised

bedroom door closed

earplugs adjustments

I shut out

the bright day


Well, that was what I intended. But I can never resist a peek at the computer. Emails and projects draw me in.


cold porridge, first meal of the day

lunching in the sun

sometime after noon


Benita H Kape © 7.4.2018

NaPoWriMo 2018 image


Trains – Day 6, 2018 – Line breaks

Train to Wairoa 001



ran the line past our house

every day.

Many trains

ran this way or, from

this way south.


At that time it was simply the best, and easiest

of transport for the return journey after a full day out,

a bus having taken us

to our returning station from the centre

of town.


At the railway station

we sometimes had to wait for the overnighter,

the one which travelled the length of the island

and took priority on the main track;

stopped for sandwiches and coffee,

and some people bought pillows

while we watched on

slipping from the platform on the other side

of the building

and then back to our train

backed up on the siding


and waiting

and waiting;

sometimes until nine in the evening

for our slow train to move on.

That’s what they called them – slow trains,

but we were used to that in the country and

that was a long time ago.


When the overnighter had gone

we quickly clambered on

to our few carriages

and all the brakes were off

as the train driver got up steam. A few miles

down the line, his now sluggish and sleepy passengers

finally at their destination. Yeah, there

was our house

over the bridge

down the road a block or two

just near a fence where another train

was again passing through

before we even reached our backdoor.

Those were the days

when we had no option

but to take

the slow train home.


Benita H. Kape © 6.4.2018

NaPoWriMo 2018 image