Jennifer Hambrick


Children of the Sun by Hennie Niemann Jnr.

he bought the car and named it Mary Ellen a long
time before we met and she didn’t have any air
conditioning but who cares on a day like today
because the sun’s out and the windows are down
and we’ve got highway wind going and I take off
my flimsy flip-flops and stick my feet with the
purple toenail polish out the window and close
my eyes and for a little while I forget about the
time Mary Ellen screwed me over with a flat tire
the first time I drove her and it’s like the sun itself
is beaming up inside me like a big giant Necco

endless day
rainbow on the skin
of a bubble


About the writer:
A Pushcart Prize nominee, Jennifer Hambrick won First Place in the 2018 Haibun Competition of the Haiku Society of America, is the inaugural artist-in-residence at Bryn Du Mansion, and authored the poetry collection Unscathed (NightBallet Press). Her poems appear in The American Journal of Poetry, Santa Clara Review, The Main Street Rag, Maryland Literary Review, The Haibun Journal, Mayfly, Modern Haiku, and elsewhere. She has received numerous poetry commissions and awards. .

Image: Children of the Sun by Hennie Niemann Jnr. Oil on linen. 120 x 100 cm. 2020. By free license.