the sky is afire,
and, yet, i can see my breath
on chill winter air.
Winter Sky Fire [Haiku]
1

sunrise orange
sparkles on the lake;
lone fisher casts nets
The valley stretches in such a way
that it gets sun but one hour a day.
That Happy Hour when the sun aligns
upon dewy grass and deep green pines.
The local villagers, they all know
when they should come and when they should go.
But that Happy Hour is not for either.
It's to face the sun and take a breather.
The ocean vast
closes in.
Clouds drop.
If the horizon still exists,
it's behind an approaching
wall of gray.
Whatever is closing down
the world has also
drained it of color.
The shadows are black.
The sea foam is white.
Everything else is
some dim, earthy tone.
The sea may have retained
a hint of green or blue,
but it's hard to tell --
so darkened &
gray-infused
are the waters.
I fear the world may shrink
to a dot, like an old timey TV
snapped off, a dot that's
bright white but cold.

in a city park,
muscular baobabs &
wiry strangler figs
provide residences
for the fierce squirrels.