Awake early, I switch off my electric light— a snowy sunrise.
Tucked in the corners of this frigid window, beetles— one large and two small.
Sometimes I write a handful of haiku on the same idea as a way of really exploring it. Below is an example.
Just above freezing— delightful warm walk, even the dog is happy. Just above freezing— soft chilly waft of warm air, deep cold departing.
All lack of heat—creek its sides crusted, stratified white undulations.
Unexpected chat with the neighbors—the cold walk home becomes warmer.
Another pair of haiku on the same subject:
Garden locked in freeze, back firmly aching, chair bound— reading happily. Aching back missing the gentle garden flex—still gracefully reading.
Fight: two waves wholey blind to the wind's whipping force, the moon's tidal pull.
Hazy clouds, bare web of branches, rippled old glass— the blue sky hidden.
My husband's bright face obliterated in screen— my hands perch, waiting.
Lying in bed, cold hands exposed, clutching up my phone—scrolling, scrolling. Clutching up my phone, lying in bed, exposed cold hands scrolling, scrolling.
Weighing coffee grounds— string of deer crossing the field lit up by sunrise.
Meditation--thoughts a constant bluster, the wind meter cups whirling.
Searching for comfort this winter evening, I munch freshly popped popcorn.