Midwinter Haiku
17 poems from midwinter, 2022
A pair of haiku on the same idea:
--- Even in this old farmhouse the highway's rumble shakes the winter air. - Old farmhouse morning— even here, the highway's groan shakes the winter air.
The repotted palm grows up, expanding into the thin new layer.
In the early dark I gather eggs, the chickens cooing and clutching.
Big wind in bare boughs, my thoughts swirl furiously around this gray house.
In a looping arch the red-belied woodpecker linking two branches.
This mild thaw makes us giddy—dog, husband, and wife on a midday walk.
So many hours at the monitor—I see you, two-dimensional.
Gloved numb fingers—thud! The sledge drives the kindling down onto the cracker.
Cardinals scrapping with juncos with each other over fallen grain.
The frozen chicken poop does not stick to my boots— a winter mercy.
The one I target gets away—chickens leaping, flapping and squawking.
Hating the ringing din, my husband continues splitting the firewood.
The sunrise obscured in a gray haze of freshly falling white snowflakes. - Freshly falling white snowflakes—the sunrise obscured in a gray haze.
Growing shorter, old tan grass, waving in the wind, steady snow falling.
The cooling beeswax peels from its mold—a crackle across the kitchen.