November 18th Haiku #171

11/18/2020

The sky was a cloak
of murder, caws for judgment-
the crescent abstained.

Walking out of work, there were so many crows in the sky, on buildings, in the trees. Obviously, there was something to converge about and they were in deep discussion. It brought me back to my apartment in St. Louis when I was in college, and there were some large, old sycamores, whose branches stretched over the street and acted like they were part of the building. The crows would come and sit, and I would be within 10 feet of some of them, going about their business and ignoring my human ways. When getting out of the car at home, there was the moon, a fuzzy crescent, above it all and hanging out with a planet and a few stars, leaving all the arguments behind.

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Haiku Hand

To not lose the memory of my hands during COVID, I craft words as part of my artistic practice. I end the day in contemplation as a daily record of this time, and as an observational diary of my environment.

Rebecca Siemering lives and works in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, USA, as a fiber artist, arts administrator, and writer. She explores the theme of “wanting the good life,” utilizing found materials in her animistic sculpture and textile art. Her methodical and compulsive style of stitch and needlework reflects the original obsession-
to rise above the mundane, the sculpture embodying a soul that exists apart from the corporeal article of ink and pulp. Her recycled, paper-based work is in the collection of Fidelity Investments and has traveled in shows with the Robert C. Williams Paper Museum, the Fuller Craft Museum, and Fiber Art International.

rebeccasiemering.com
@rsiemering
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