AnElephantCant deny that he is ancient
He is around since time immemorial
But this week he feels hip
His haibun is a snip
He discusses all matters tonsorial

 Yep, he is still doing it.
The motivation provided by the temporarily suspended Haibun Thinking produced by his friend Al is still going strong, so AnElephant decides to continue his one-pachyderm assault on the elegant genre of Haibun.

Sticks by AnElephantCant

The Barber Shop Quartet

He sits unthinking, watching in the mirror as his grey hair tumbles over his shoulders and onto the floor.
He ignores the barber who rambles on, oblivious to the fact that his audience long ago stopped listening.
The door behind him opens and he sees the reflection of a small boy with an older woman, presumably his grandmother.
The child is restless, even agitated, and the woman placatory.
He is wholly ambivalent, never greatly interested in children apart from his beloved grandson.
But, as he settles up and retrieves his jacket, something about the youngster’s unhappiness touches him.
He picks up his shoulder bag to leave, then pauses, somehow identifying with the squirming little body now in the chair.
He rummages in the bag and produces a stick.
This is no ordinary stick, he tells the boy, it is a secret mammoth magic dragon hydrosonic gun stick.
It has lots of different and mysterious functions.
What does it do?
Whatever you want it to do, it is magic.
It can capture T Rex in a net, blow a bubble that can carry an elephant, or send a rope soaring over the moon.
A little hand reaches for it.
The scissors are snipping furiously.
The grandmother’s face is wreathed in smiles of gratitude.
The stick is examined, very carefully.
It is prodded with curious fingers, squeezed in a tight grip, viewed from every angle.
Can I keep it?
He knows Jack will understand.
And he has about seventeen others in his bag or secreted about his person in preparation of his next visit.
Use it carefully, he says, and look after your grandma, okay?
I do, the head, now shorn, nods wisely, don’t I, Gran?
Her hand strokes the stubbly hair, her eyes glow, her expression the definition of love.

children of all ages
find magic
wherever they look