My Little Haiku

by q97randomguy

Some Ponies Must Choose

Long Haul brings the mail.
He must go both far and wide.
It is his true love.

In his home city,
Baltimare, he greets the morn,
Rising with the sun.

The mail run won’t wait
For snow nor rain nor heat nor
Those with bleary eyes.

He minds the hour not.
His wings long for open air
And exertion’s burn.

Ascending, he goes
Package-laden on his quest
To deliver mail.

Pulling a huge cart,
Long Haul watches below. There!
A familiar face.

He sees her, earth-bound,
Staring up as he passes.
A flash of beauty.

Then gone, like always.
No stopping with these bundles.
Farther and higher.

The ground slips away,
Becoming a patchwork quilt.
Each tree is a dot.

Earth slips by below,
A moving mosaic of land.
It has beauty too.

The greens are her eyes.
The ocean matches her coat,
Mysterious blue.

Glints off the water
Echo the smiles she gives him
Each time he passes.

His mind and body,
Each goes off in separate ways.
One ahead, one back.

Manehattan, a speck,
Will appreciate the cloth
He brings, bolting there.

He knows just one thing:
They won’t meet for a week yet.
Don’t think about it.

Arrival. Bustle.
Puny “skyscrapers” below.
He laughs at the term.

Then, Long Haul descends.
Caustic mares and stallions glare,
Making his skin crawl.

Manehattan he leaves
As soon as possible, for
It turns ponies bad.

Bearing new orders
And packages too, he flies,
Leaving the city.

Turning to the west,
He continues on toward
The Crystal Empire.

He gains altitude.
The air high above is thin
And parts easily.

Hours pass him by.
Trees become shrubs become ice.
Real cold lies ahead.

In The Frozen North
Mountains are true skyscrapers.
He scoffs not at them.

Craggy flank him,
Guiding Long Haul toward life,
The city, his goal.

He flies right through a
Squall, rogue in this untamed land.
Ice encrusts his form.

Gusts shake both his cart
And his self-confidence. Yet!
Ahead is the spire.

The sight brings him hope,
And Long Haul surges forward,
Drawn toward his goal.

Through the pain he fights,
Throat burning, wings dying embers.
His eyelids are stone.

He heaves in a breath,
Each a pyrrhic victory.
Even his lungs ache.

Exhausted, he dips,
Clipping snow from a mountain.
Hoof and leg go numb.

Everything is black.
Covering his head is cloth.
A blanket—but how?

He lies in a bed.
Soldiers stand around and watch.
Memories return.

Disused legs crumple.
The hard road welcomes his face.
Ponies rush to him.

Long Haul looks around
And thanks everypony there.
Then, two more walk in.

Alicorn and prince
Stride into the room with both
Concerned words and praise.

They give him an award
A medal (made of crystal)
For a job well done.

What had he brought them?
Long Haul wonders. Or, he thinks,
They could be too kind.

They leave him to rest.
But he is a pegasus,
Strong, resilient.

He had nearly died,
But he springs back to action.
After a short nap.

When morning breaks forth,
Long Haul springs into action
And also the air.

He heads southward now,
To Equestria’s center,
Its hub, Canterlot.

Bearing royal seals
On all his deliveries,
He takes extra care.

This time, Luck’s his friend.
No storm comes to strike him down.
The flight is easy.

Squinting he closes
On the city of royals.
Its polished gold gleams.

Amid the buildings,
His head unconsciously dips.
Majesty surrounds.

Huge mountains rise up,
Impassive. But here, buildings
Speak of great power.

The castle he draws near
On hoof he approaches it.
Can’t go through the air.

Into the palace,
Long Haul enters through the gate.
Guards unpack his cart.

Pleasant but clipped words,
Direct him away again.
To the post office.

Prompt Delivery,
The Postmaster General,
Orders him this time.

Out past Ponyville
To Los Pegasus he goes.
This time less a cart.

A special harness,
Designed not to move in flight,
Clings to chest and back.

Nevermelt Ice nails
For some rich pegasus there
Made by a strong mage

They weigh too little,
He thinks as he flies along.
They’re not a challenge.

To his left, the Gorge,
A massive tear in the earth,
Looks just like a mouth.

Flight path unswerving,
His mind wanders back to her,
And he wonders why.

Perhaps, he guesses,
Being near death changed his life,
And now he wants more.

Yet that can’t be it;
He’d thought of her yesterday.
Must be something else.

With her leaf green eyes
And her lustrous, deep blue coat,
She has captured him.

What is it she does,
Rising with the sun each day?
He wants to find out.

Alas, they won’t meet
Until his route takes him home,
Be it days or weeks.

Tossing his blond mane,
He sighs and continues on
To Los Pegasus.

There, he’s thanked and tipped
By a plump pegasus mare
Who owns lots of art.

At the post office
Is a roost for those like him
Who traverse the land.

He stays the night there,
Waiting for the coming day
And a heavy load.

He awakes early
Ready to be off again,
Laden down with bits.

Six casino’s goons
Flank him in a tight circle.
They look paranoid.

Long Haul worries not.
His airspace is always clear
Since he flies so high.

Cruising altitude
All the others gasp for breath,
But he laughs inside.

Back to Canterlot.
Millions of bits in tow,
He feels powerful.

Wings straining for lift,
The armored cart weighs him down,
But he combats it.

He feels so alive.
The escorts around him fade,
Leaving just the sky.

The wind supports him,
His hooves far off of the ground,
Left so far behind.

A shining beacon,
The roofs of the capital
Call him from below.

As he trots down streets,
Ponies give the strangest looks.
Bits draw ponies’ stares.

At a gilded bank,
They unlock him from the cart
And dispelled some charms.

He goes back to Prompt
For his next assignment and
Then heads for Cloudsdale.

It’s a simple run,
Shorter than he’d really like,
But it must be done.

He’s alone once more,
Not that the goons from before
Were real company.

Cloudsdale’s nebulous
Edge comes into Long Haul’s sight.
Or does it, really?

City outskirts range
From stratus to cirrus clouds,
A huge area.

Pegasi don’t mind.
Why would distance matter when
They can fly with ease?

Long Haul thinks about
How nice life would be here
With its far-flung homes.

Then, a thought occurs.
That mare is an earth pony.
She could not live here.

His flight slows slightly
As he re-evaluates
His priorities.

Flights to neighbors’ homes
Wouldn’t be worth it, he thinks.
Then there’s seeing her.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading.
This is just the beginning
Of Long Haul's story.

Comments

[Equestrian Narrator]

Clever ideas
Make the most clever stories
I must applaud you.

[q97randomguy]

5459636
Why, thank you, good sir,
Or madam, or otherwise.
I'm glad you enjoyed!

[prettyponi]

Haikus are my fav
They seem so easy to make but,
Atleast they don't rhyme

[q97randomguy]

5459658
While easy to make,
Crafting a story with them
Takes a lot of work!

[Equestrian Narrator]

5459647
This is the most fun
I have entertained in ages
With such poetry.

[q97randomguy]

5459673
It is fun sometimes.
Others, I pull out my hair.
Figuratively.

[q97randomguy]

6060910
I thank you, good sir!
Pure "buffalo" sentences
Break haikus, alas.