Three Haikus
Whirling leaves, snow, birds
Frenzied seasons circle a
Patient bicycle.
y-branch tree
steel cables bit in
screws in bone
We yanked the stump out.
That pretty blue spruce is just
A memory now.
Tag Archives: seasons
Haibun – Winter Maneuver
Winter attempts an advance against fall. To one side of the road, a cold snowscape of white-laced grass, two-tone evergreens, ancient gnarled branches softly pillowed with marshmallow, a study in black and white. To the other, fresh grass scattered with the discards of the glowy orange maple, the radiant yellow fingers of the gumball tree, the startling neon red of the burning bushes. Winter is gaining ground against the bounteous color, blotting out the many-hued lawns with pure white primer, heaping icing on the trees’ heads. The trees, still warm and flexible, shake the wet snow from their glorious manes, spattering sidewalk and pedestrian alike with gobs of slush. Dripping sounds off from all sides, in full stereo. Splat. Splat-splat. It was not the sky, but the trees which rained.
Ever she dances
Nature’s unconscious graces
Embrace all conflict
When the world is first frostbitten
When the world is first frostbitten
tender trees touched in thin ice
When summer shows its back
abandoning you for a faraway land
When winter’s wan face smirks at your peephole
hard fingernails tapping your door
knowing it will soon be strong
enough to crack your lock and let itself in
When everything disintegrates into blue and white and crispy brown
and the wind, mad surgeon, lacerates your summer softened skin
then the clouds part
affording you
one
glimpse
of heavenly light
a welcoming patch in which to stand
When you know you are about to lose it for good
that is when the warmest sun shines
Sarah D. Silvey 