They ask me why I walk alone in the snow. In the cold where no one else walks. Where the trees are bare and the moon is far.
They see only loneliness in the white.
But I cherish the snow. Those crystals glitter to me. The moon is sprinkled all around me. The trees are clothed in wind and stars.
Only in silence does the world speak. Only in stillness does the world move.
They ask me why I walk alone in the snow.
I ask them why they think I’m alone.
(Image courtesy of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo)
Written for Sue Vincent’s Writephoto Prompt: Untrodden
Pleased to have my haiku included in this week’s A Sense of Place feature:
sharing a burger –
the homeless man
and his dog
in the empty hallways
a child’s whisper
Written for Carpe Diem #1554 Haunted Houses (modern kigo)
Note: Haunted houses is a modern kigo taken from Jane Reichhold’s A Dictionary of Haiku.
the burning embers
of an autumn sky
(Image courtesy of Pixabay)
Written for Carpe Diem #1550 Harvested Fields (modern kigo)
I’m happy to make my first appearance in Jalmurra, edited by Kate Alsbury:
the autumn leaves
I’m restless tonight. It feels as if the very air is dancing. I try telling myself I won’t get the job. There were many other applicants. But the air particles don’t settle. Practicality will have to wait for tomorrow.
my dreams alight
with little promises
pulling the plug…
in your smile
Written for Carpe Diem #1537 Decay
The stillness of your anger scares me. I’ve had anger before. It’s hot, it boils, it wants to come up through your being and into the world. But your anger has no movement. It has no heat. Its shape is unknown.
This anger is a deep part of your being. You hide it from the world. You hide it inside, where your soul is. The seal may crack one day, and you will enter this world. You will walk among us. I pray that day never comes.
I wonder if raindrops have shadows. Everything has a shadow. The rain must have a shadow too. I think I’ve seen rain shadows once, in my garden, but now I’m not sure. I look for them every time it rains. Mostly I see only light and water. But sometimes – in the grass, on a wall – I see them. Rain shadows. And I know they’re there.