Peggy Hale Bilbro

Peggy Hale Bilbro
Alabama, USA

Day after day we hear the news: the hottest July ever; the once every thousand years flood; Canada on fire; the Gulf Stream collapsing; the fortieth day of temperatures above 110°; arctic ice melting; sea levels rising; coastal areas threatened. I don’t even know what to say. If you can’t see it, I can’t convince you with my words. 

forest bathing
the smell of smoke
drifts by

Published in contemporary haibun online Issue 19:3, 2023

By Peggy Bilbro
Alabama, USA

mixed
into the chili
jalapeños 
the special flavor
that gives spice to life

Our favorite Mexican restaurant. The best flautas and quesadillas, not to mention the sizzling fresh fajitas. Their margaritas weren’t the best, but the food and the servers over-rode that deficit. They were the sweetest employees who always recognized us, and loved to speak Spanish with me, as a retired Spanish teacher. Then we noticed that one by one they started disappearing. Our favorite server was no longer there to greet us. The young fellow at the cash register had disappeared. The motherly lady who always sat in the first booth and calculated all the accounts and especially loved to chat with me in Spanish was missing at our next visit. Then the flautas and fajitas just weren’t up to their usual quality. The next time we were there the teen age girl at the cash register confided in us that our state’s aggressive anti-immigrant policies had caused most of her family to flee. Her father who had established this delightful ethnic corner. Her mother who kept track of the accounts. Her brothers who were the charming waiters and excellent chefs. All had found themselves unwelcome in this city and state that they had contributed their heart and heritage to. The young lady, U.S. born, was determined to stay and finish her education though even she felt threatened. So many have fled, and we are the poorer for it. 

swallows 
immigrating
for them no wall 
if only 
we could fly

By Peggy Hale Bilbro
Alabama, USA

our sins
unto the seventh generation
we watch
the rivers run dry
and do nothing