silver cloud fingers
swift birds fly across the wind
dawn light rising cold
Tag Archives: cold
Haiku for a feeder Tuesday
many rowdy jays
a feather hunched morning dove
hawk gliding over
Outriders
There are days I see the broad shape of earth in the clouds
arriving ahead of wind and snow, tails feathered to a point
evaporating ether like in ice clear sky
We can only guess at the cold they announce
racing battle pennants for a promised storm
The rattle of their casting bones driving us to shelter
Haiku for a stormy Monday
white pines draped in snow
fierce winds shepherd the new storm
birds will need more food
Seeing them off
Today they are still here,
and I am too, in late September.
My hummingbird pair. One darts in
to feed, the other perches
drinking deeply, tipping her head back
to let the nectar slide.
I feel that energy sweet and cool
down my throat.
Their absence looms, a large bell
with muffled clappers tolling
unopposed, reddening the trees,
exiling light, ushering in cold.
Lately the question, will they
visit me again, or will there be
someone else looking out my window
twelve months on?
Each year it is harder let them go,
as if there were a choice.
Longing for blue
Longing for blue
for the swell of
waves at noon
wind changing
light flaking
on their crests
Lunch at a glass table
over hot flagstones
flesh still warming
we rode ice sharp water
round the whirlpool’s
seaweed walls
Wine in the blood
languid tune in my bones
we sit shoulders touching
shaded corners
of a sea green room
calling
Audio: Read by the author.
A haiku for midsummer heat with notes
heat blankets the skin
my bones lay it down against
the thought of winter
__________________________
the extremes of summer and winter call to each other; one recent february was so unremittingly cold that I vowed to remember it come summer, and not complain!
Life With Horace 