Cold Night Haiku

I
a winter moon
is seen clearly between
breath fog plumes

 

II
starry skies,
through the tent flap,
herald cold’s bite

 

III
cold slinks in
once sleep has taken hold,
settling in bone

 

IV
winter midnight —
sunlight, a distant memory,
or so it feels

 

V
how bright the moon
in the mid-winter sky —
yet, no heat

Still Winter Haiku

icy river
all the world stands still, or
pretends to



snow deadens
sounds and signs of life
a blank slate



the breeze dies
then the snow fall ceases
time freezing



deep footprints
tell of a man and a dog
hunting rabbit



an old church
the surrounding snow
is unmarred

GREEN WINTER HAIKU

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a crow caws
standing on a stout post
black eye watching



a child wonders,
beyond this rainy valley,
is it white?



nothing scurries
but mushrooms sprout
wet forest floor



lonely bus stop
one man waits for a nearly
empty bus



streaks of blue
viewed through cloudy skies
a bird hops

COLD HAIKU

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bitter winds
slice down from the north
so bone cold


damp air sinks
hangs as a cloak of cold
a straitjacket


starry skies
viewed through tent flap crescent
arctic outhouse


cold awakens
each moment, a moment lived
satori by ice


brisk joy
the skater’s frisson
feels electric

POEM: Winter Dusk

Stalk-stubbled field dusted white.
Four in the afternoon,
yet drifting into night.
How’s dark descend so soon?
 
Visible breath eddies
from lips dry and cracked.
Shoulders shrugged up ready —
cold collar cataract.
 
Light of low sun passes
through the barren hardwoods.
Moving like molasses,
people wear all their soft goods.

5 Winter Night Haiku


 
snowy woods
glows in the moonlight
fox tracks



silent hour
smoke, a farm nearby?
who knocks?



barren woods
morning light will pass through
night’s void



who huddles?
a roadside silhouette
hitcher? boulder?



cloud & moon
paint different homesteads
from same scene

POEM: Winter

cabin fever,

pent-up through a maddening winter

crated winter vegetables
in pantry and cellar,
staples in barrels

amber light filters through the trees
three hours either side of mid-day

a deer, nose down,
roots for nourishment
in the leaf litter between snow pack

the line between blissful solitude
and mania is thin and ghostly

POEM: Budapest

I know you best by the gray of your winters

when road salt coats the sidewalks

and a witch of wind rides down the Danube

whistling around pedestrians on your broad bridges

      — except there are no pedestrians

                  — save for me —

river crossers huddle in yellow trams

or pack into the Metro that rolls under the river

I know your beauty can be unsullied

I’ve seen a Budapest in bloom,

under blue skies and cotton clouds

But your gray days lend a distinguished air

a melancholic miracle is birthed from gloom

a sweep of story,

 a piece of poetry,

that would move a stoic to tears

And escape is always close at hand

for Kürtőskalács fires sunshine in my mind

Desolate Snow Haiku

boot crunch
‘a cloudless night,’
he concluded

 

old coat of snow
nary a track in sight
beauty abandoned

 

snow blind
trudging and slogging
pure torture

 

crust of snow
over dry powder
bone cold

 

drifting flakes
add a wedge wall
to a farmhouse