Friday, February 07, 2014

 

Haiku Friday: Will Winter Ever End????

I'm pretty sure that I don't have to explain this one to anybody outside of Anchorage, Alaska (apparently the only place in the US that isn't having a harsh winter).

Let's haiku about this winter:  The snow, the cold, the driving, the need to augment your car's heater, etc....

Here, I will go first:

It's below zero!
Just like every other day...
I may just drive south.

Actually, I'm kind of enjoying it, most of the time.  It is beautiful, and there is lots to do on the snow and ice... but couldn't we do that at 20 degrees rather than -20?

Comments:
Let's just light a fire
Tangle our legs together
And ride out the cold.

Talk throughout the night
About our pasts and futures
With our hands entwined.

In the bright morning
Awaken to the beauty
Of new beginnings.
MMM
 
It stretches one stark
white forbidding page a book
With no end,canvas

Uncolored. Every
Morning I rise.It is the same.
Blinding uncreation.

It's Darling Companion
Is Cold and she always finds
Weakness.And enters.


 
"Wintry mix," Hooray!
Kids scamper outside to make
snow/dirt yard angels.
 
Internal furnace.
My mate has one. Lucky me!
Cold nights. Cozy sleep.
 
Crystalline branches
like sprays of antique lace reach
upward, seeking sun.


 
Sharpen your skate blades
Frozen ears, toques pulled down tight
Gotta love black ice

 
The bay temps dipped to
fifty-five. Wetsuit, cap, fins
Must think like a SEAL

It gets cold, even
in Tampa, Florida... swim...
coffee warms the core

 
We sat in the shack
Men, boys, and bowls of chili
Steam rising off each

 
The air hurts my face.
Why do I live somewhere where
The air hurts my face?

I have never had
a fever so cold and low
as cabin fever
 
When Sal went out to
Shovel walk,I made toddies,
Bed: Rose petals strewed.
 
Listen Osler--Geoff does not suck.

I like cold.It puts
Metaphoric hair on your chest.
Geoff has real hair there.

I found him under
The Rose petals, mug in hand.
Hmmm. Let's look lower...

GEOFFREY!!!
 
Skates, skis, sleds, snow forts.
You'll miss them in the summer.
All two weeks of it.
 
I'm going running,
Its seven below zero.
Frost covers my head.
 
If Osler drives south
he will find drivers clueless
about ice driving.
 
I do not know your
Cold. Sun spreads buttery through
My window.I bathe.
 
Touch my iced fingers
with your warm honey breath
I live in summer now.
 
An ether iced palest
Gray holds me down,like silent
Sumo wrestler. Drowned.
 
Under fir a white hare
Hunches into drifted snow
Whisper green in ears.

Cardinals swoop high
And low over that same tree
Red defies this dead

Which tries to claim me.
A squirrel arches lush tail
We survive we three.
 
Ice white frigid hiss
crackling jabbing pinching froze
Nose,nape,breast,bone,toes

Wind earlobe beak bites
Tail shatter spikes needle pins
Skin rubs raw beet red.
 
Rose morph, shrivelbranch!
Stone turn tulip! Twig forth time!
Spring come running!
 
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