He thought much of these disembodied hands, pictured them moving to the light of the burnished lantern, weaving patterns intricate as those in the most delicate hummingbird nest, textures and shades of light with traces of webs and soft fibers of unknown origin, making knots of shadows and their companions.
*
It was not that they were so very much like his; they were hands of another sort, hands that touched nothing held by another, hands that knew no lips or wooden hearts or curves in a quiet moment, hands that knew only themselves in the community of unnatural hands.
waking to the rain
he hears a far-off whistle
oh, the neighbor’s tea!
* * *
“Community of Hands” first appeared here in April 2017.
O at the Edges 
Reblogged this on Frank J. Tassone and commented:
#Haiku Happenings #1 (4/27/22): Robert Okaji’s latest #haibun!
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Thanks very much for reblogging, Frank.
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Lately, I’ve become very taken with appreciating the haibun.
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Such a wonderful form. I don’t usually set out to write a haibun. They just form organically. Funny how that is.
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I’ve always believed that what we have to express will find its own form, if we let it.
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I believe that too! Except for forms, like sonnets and sestinas, which have certain requirements. But those, too, find their own words; I often feel that I’m just along for the ride.
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It’s such a great feeling when that happens!
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The best!
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