It snowed last night – heavy wet flakes, the kind common sense dictates you not attempt to move, because A) they weigh a ton per shovelful, and B) they will melt away soon enough. The pines along the back yard look as if the weight of the world had settled on them alone, and the grey clouds hang overhead like a heavy sigh.
But the steady drip from the eaves is the faint patter of hope – a heart beating faintly in the thick silence. So, a haiku:
The last snow, fallen –
draped in white, the trees bow low
at Winter's passing
Hm. It may help to know that white is the traditional funeral color of Japan, land of the haiku. But while that detail might add a little something, I think it works alright as-is. At least for today.
Sorry it's been so long ...
Labels: poetry, spring, winter