On
the edge–
fall to winter
burnished gold now
fading, almost gone.
Cold north winds sigh and moan,
blowing time forward. Squirrels dart,
scamper over oak’s bare branches
gathering acorns for tomorrow
and tomorrow—till spring bursts into bloom.
This is an etheree for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge.
We’re frozen in a shadow world of dreary grey clouds, not even interesting enough to be chiaroscuro, just day after day dismal bleakness. Finally, the sun appears, and though the wind is gusting, and it is cold, I am thrilled to see sunshine. I have a doctor’s appointment, and we decide to make the rest of the day into an afternoon date—lunch and a movie. Before the movie, Green Book, I discover a little pond by the multi-plex parking lot. Beauty in unexpected places.
sun shines one fine day–
cold white clouds on blue surface,
rippled by webbed feet
A friend stops by–just for a moment to drop off a belated birthday gift. The presents are lovely, but it’s the thoughtfulness that I cherish more. We’ve been friends since our college years when our now husbands were roommates. She’s a friend I could call in the middle of the night if I ever had to.
know you’ve got a friend
in January’s dark cold
to bring glimpse of spring
We’re watching The Man in the High Castle. In this alternate reality, the United States is split between the Nazis on the East coast and the Japanese on the West. In one episode, a Jewish man (who practices his religion in secret) tells another character to continue to create art, to find beauty so that “they” don’t win. He says Jews have outlived evil before, and they will do it again. I hope he’s right.
creating beauty,
wondering if it’s too late
for seeds to flower
One of my mother’s paintings.
Sun and wind, then grey skies again. A Sunday morning snowfall, quiet and beautiful.
there, up on the roof
snow lays a silent white quilt–
inside all are warm
We eat mussels and pomme frites at a Belgian bar. Then we walk through the cold city streets, where some holiday decorations remain.
small blankets of white
lights twinkle so far away–
city winter night
In the beautiful Academy of Music, we see Beautiful. The show tells the story of Carole King’s life, focusing on her relationship with Gerry Goffin, her husband and writing partner, and their friendly rivalry with songwriters Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil. The show ignores the social and political events going on at the time, though her declaration of independence got a cheer from women in the audience. Still, the songs that carry the show along—and they, of course, are wonderful. The show begins (“So Far Away) and ends with Carole alone on the stage at the piano (“Beautiful”).
light so far away,
you’re beautiful as you feel—
hope in dark of night
We go home to dream–of some kind of wonderful.
Each of the haiku–and the final line– includes a line from a Carole King song:
“One Fine Day” (Gerry Goffin and Carole King)
“You’ve Got a Friend” (Carole King)
“It’s Too Late “(Carole King)
“Up on the Roof “(Gerry Goffin and Carole King
“So Far Away “(Carole King)
“Beautiful “(Carole King)
“Some Kind of Wonderful” (Gerry Goffin and Carole King)
And here’s a bonus for you from when Carole King was honored at the Kennedy Center.
If you’ve never seen this, then you’re welcome. And if you have, then you know–Aretha Franklin, the Obamas, and Carole King herself–all the feelings!
January—the new year begins with day after day of grey skies and rain. I sit in a medical center. The light here is muted, the voices are hushed, except for those on the TV set, which no one is watching. I wait for a fax to arrive so that I can have a test done. Like Godot, the fax never appears. After three hours of waiting, I reschedule the test for another day. I walk outside to find it’s now sleeting. I travel home, only a few miles, but it’s another world, one of warmth and light. The cats greet me. My husband naps in front of the TV. I defrost some homemade soup for dinner for us and drink a glass of wine. It is dark now, but somehow the world seems brighter.
unrelenting clouds,
sun and moon sheathed in cold grey–
wind sighs lonesome blues
Warmth for body and soul
This Haibun is for Haibun Monday at dVerse, where Kim asks us to write about January. This was my afternoon yesterday. Thank goodness I had a good book to read. In case anyone was worried, I was simply getting a routine test to check my bone density.
“Thus having prepared their buds
against a sure winter
the wise trees
stand sleeping in the cold.”
–From William Carlos Williams, “Winter Trees”
The first of December is mostly grey,
but not so cold—winter held at bay
for a while, but we smile to see the glow–
the sun on remaining leaves of trees slow
to sleep in winter’s arms,
and we walk to see the city’s charms
even in the bleakness of late fall—
almost winter—some magic calls
there, Diana shines atop the stairs
gilded anew, she seems aware
of her strength, though she charms–
with arrow frozen in her arms
goddess of the hunt,
a moment, centered, upfront
there, I greet her like a friend
each time I visit, happy to see her send
(not the arrow), no never,
but she seems much too clever
to harm–such determination in her face–
perhaps she could send us hope and grace
we see dolls reflecting the passion
for both play and fashion
the bisque baby catches my eye
or the phrase captures my ear, why?
it sounds funny to me,
and so, we wander and see
a sibyl and monuments and Eve
through museum and streets, we weave
our way, and see the sights,
some Christmas lights,
drink mulled wine
feeling fine—then laugh to see that sign
we walk back and down the hill
where no joggers jog, all is still
except the duck, who with quack and flap
jumps into the river—a slight slap—
against the surface, he swims
the sound, a chorus, a winter hymn
before the start of winter rain
with sun gone, shadows come again
bringing a misty afternoon twilight,
yes, this is December’s light.
Then Hanukkah comes with candle light
to bring us wonder and delight
I fry latkes in a pan
listening to a man
discuss his life
some of the strife
escaping the Holocaust
in Kindertransport, crossed
to Sweden, his stuffed monkey with him*
the object now brings some joy, an era dimmed
by tragedy and time—family reunited
evil not forgotten or righted
exactly, but comforting to know
that helpers were there, not so long ago
and still, that there are people who did good
and do it still, do what they can, should and could
and so, we light the candles on this first night
eat latkes and smile at the sight
Latkes!
of them burning till the flames die,
watch them belie
the darkness of night and soul
as believing in miracles makes us whole
more perhaps than what we seem–
the sum of what we hope and dream.
Hanukkah seems both more poignant and more important to celebrate this year.
I think I shared this story before from a previous All Things Considered segment, but Michel Martin interviewed Uri and Gert Beliner again last night.
We visited the Philadelphia Museum of Art during the members’ weekend and the Christmas Village.
This is for the dVerse Monday Quadrille. Victoria has asked us to use the word poem, or some form of the word in a poem of 44 words. Yesterday I heard a robin; today it snowed.
Snowy winter mornings are quiet dreamscape poems written on grey and white velvet. But the sun laughs out loud in June–warm, golden verses–and birds sing harmony from yellow-green branches.
Trees dusted with snow
hawk hovers, but robin sings
spring will come again
Another moon poem. This time for dVerse, where Victoria writes, “For our Haibun prompt today, I have chosen the Japanese Kigo, Fuyu No Tsuki—winter moon.”
On New Year’s Eve, I’m feeling stressed, tired, and soul-weary. From my kitchen window, I see the moon rising in the east. It’s almost as brilliant as the pale winter sun, and the sky around it also glows, sapphire blue. I stop to gaze at her–and spellbound, there’s a pause between worlds. For a brief moment, it’s just the moon and me.
In the glimmer of Christmas lights, we eat homemade pizza, drink ruby-red wine, and binge watch a Netflix show. When I wake on New Year’s Day, the day is bitterly cold and diamond-hard, but there is the moon, now lighting the western sky. She smiles at me, and I understand her presence is a New Year’s gift.
Ensorcelling moon–
glowing winter light is grace
smiling in the dark
This is for dVerse. Björn asked us to be conscious of how we punctuate the silence in this poem. I normally do use commas and dashes and sometimes periods for full stops, but I did try to be extra aware of pauses here.
in the blue-white of a snowy morning
silence reigns. . .
winds brush all with feathered wings,
but hush the birds, who do not sing
as they huddle in their nests and wait. . .
and I, with cup in hand, sit still,
wonder if it ever will
get warm again. . .
by window side, there I bide,
I look outside on winter white,
the whipping flakes diffusing light,
I gaze, listening to the out and in,
and the quietness of everything
This is a tanka for Frank Tassone’s Haiku Challenge. The prompt is winter solstice, which takes place this Thursday. Though we had snow on Friday, it’s now actually unseasonably warm here in south Jersey.
Violet skies roost
over white snow shadow-kissed–
this, the longest night
buries colors like secrets
rediscovered in the spring
“Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.”
—Attributed to Anne Frank all over the Internet, but without any source that I can find
A single candle
(for miracles)
flickers in the night
joined by others
till eight in a row
they burn, and then they go
leaving only melted wax behind
and yet, perhaps I find
something, a sense of peace
in watching them increase
and we remember how our daughters
bet on which candle would stand last
one that burned not quite as fast—
lovely memories from the past.
A single candle
(for wishes)
flickers on a cupcake
baked with love
and so sweet, delivered as surprise treat.
It’s a strange birthday,
things don’t quite go my way
I lose a filling, and due to the snow
we stay and home, and don’t go
to dinner and a show,
but we eat pizza and drink some wine
and it’s fine, I say,
we’ll do something another day.
Everything a bit off this week,
small victories tinged with apprehension
tension over what might come, or be
a tax bill to help the rich–
oh, if only I could flip a switch
to eradicate ignorance and greed
wish on candles and stars that people would read
would help those in need
and instead of hindering, would keep freed
thought and scientific inquiry.
The CDC, an agency, supposed to be science-based
is not supposed to use the word
it’s not to the taste
of the current administration
who would like to see a nation
without education based on facts
but the monster simply reacts
without nuance or tact, but snaps,
just twitter taps and taps and taps
We fry latkes
and when we’re through
we eat them–and donuts, too
because it’s a holiday of oil and sweets
and it’s a treat to share them with love
we eat the food and laugh and talk of–
oh this and that–
we watch their dog and see their cat
climb in search of treasure—food!
Yes, we’re in a holiday mood
as candles flicker and lights glow
but soon it’s time to go.
I spend the next day working
(cats around me lurking)
I have too much work to do
I sit at my computer
in a bit of stupor
but as night falls
we light the candles
and watch the shadows on the walls
from the flickering glow
I think of miracles past
(wonder if our country will last)
but let those thoughts slide
subside for a more festive mood
as we eat our Chinese food
and watch the Christmas shows
I might doze. . .
In the morning, before the dawn
I yawn and look up at the sky
and know that hope like a feather flies
and though the clouds block the stars
I know exactly where they are
I close my eyes and make a wish
I hope it flies and travels far.
Under the midnight moon
creatures shuffle, scurry,
slither in a flurry
from the shadowed form.
A sharp cry, silence punched
by dead leaves crunched
under booted foot
stepping through the old back door
over creaking floor,
the Visitor walks in–
smiles his malignant grin.
I used two dVerse prompts. De Jackson (aka WhimsyGizmo) asked us to write a quadrille using the word “crunch.” Lillian asked us to write a poem using a form of the word, “visit.” Sorry, this wasn’t exactly a holiday-themed poem. I should probably stop reading the news.
