A Quarterly Journal of Contemporary English Language Haibun
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March 2009, vol 5 no 1

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Ellen Lindquist

Jane Austen Dawn

The buildings of Atlanta glow pink as diaphanous nightgowns, the clouds are puffed up like saffron pillows while I drive Glenn to the airport. The dawn vanishes and the sky goes blue and quiet as daylight takes over. Listening to Pride and Prejudice on the tape player, I drive past the turnoff and keep driving. Glenn smashes his fist on the dashboard. "Damn that Jane Austen! I'll miss my flight." He turns off the cassette player. I circle around, find the right road and drop him at the curbside check-in, just before take-off.

I sigh, knowing Glenn
has taken Jane Austen's name
in vain. For shame!

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