POEM: Awaiting Winter [Sonnet]

The winter skies are drifting slowly in,
and soon the snow will begin to amass —
the powder settling so scant and thin,
accruing between blades of withered grass.

How many times will skies sputter, thusly
without it piling up or drifting deep?
Just coating soil like the world went dusty —
not snow one shovels but the kind one sweeps.

A child’s and an adult’s prayers differ.
While grown-ups are content to prolong Fall,
kids wish that winter will get here quicker —
but all wish Christmas snow will come to call.

“And when will snow liven our bleak doorstep?”
A question I once asked, but now forget.

Cold Night Haiku

a winter moon
is seen clearly between
breath fog plumes


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


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


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


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



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



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