a warm February
today is cooler than it has been
there is
a breeze,
it rattles my windows
the sun is shing
leaves are falling
there is a chill in the air
it is cold in the apartment,
though the windows are
closed
I have not yet
lit the furnace
It is quiet… there is the soft sound of air moving through a fan, and the quiet hum of its motor…turning.
Observation
Observation
Observation
Cold, the furnace went out
Eighteen degrees outside in the
city
The
morning sun is pale in a silver sky
My fingers are stiff…not from
typing
Noise from the space-heater covers
everything
Pushing
cold air through hot coils…
Electricity
The water kettle boils
A
sharp whistle piercing the room
The promise of something warm to
hold
Sipping
hot coffee in the gloom
Observation
The news talkers are talking
Piqued with foreboding
The anticipation of disaster…tomorrow
The reality of today
Worry is present suffering
A down payment on tomorrow’s doom
The sky is light blue
The street is quiet outside my window
The squirrel in the maple
Preparing for winter
The long sleep with spring to come
#haibun
#observation
#poetry
Observation
The November sun is bright at 8:00 am
The crooked finger of bare trees…clawing
Shadows scratching at the window blinds
Daylight savings today, with a hint of winter
The scent of cold things, late-autumn leaves
Drying in the stiff-breeze
The sound of water boiling in the kettle
Calling me to coffee and the taste of chocolate
The sky is powder blue
The sun, unnaturally bright
A silver disk of light
Melting the few remaining patches of dirty snow
There is a buzz in the air
And birdsong
The feeling of spring, and joy
At its early return.
It is cold outside, but the sun is shining
The sky is striped, blue and white
I can feel the cold coming, seeping through the windows
The sun’s light through wavey glass
Snow clings to the limbs of my tree
Each flake a tiny prism from which the sun light leaps
And there is hope, today in America…there is hope
The floorboards are creaking above me
A reminder that I do not really live alone
Kitty is curled up in a ball on the couch
I hear the deep rumble of engine outside
Small branches swaying in the light breeze
Dark slender finger, against the pale sky
There is laughter somewhere down the block
People are walking outside, riding bikes
There is no snow on the ground, no ice
It is warm for Minneapolis in December
Coffee on the terrace of the penthouse
Morning on 49th Street, Radio City
Rockefeller Plaza, a few hundred feet away
Columns of concrete, glass and steel push up into the powder blue sky
Green-copper spires reflected in mirrors one thousand feet tall
Their soft patina wavering in the sunlight
A curious pigeon comes to greet me
The sounds of the city are pressing
A steady drone of HVAC permeates the atmosphere
Sirens wail and saws whine, over the drone of engines
As the arhythmic clang of steel on steel fills the air with hollow
waves
While all around me hammers fall
The city hums with a ghostly bustle
The air is warm this morning
Unseasonably warm for October
My windows are open
And Kitty is talking about rabbits
In the quiet morning
Beneath the cool blue sky
The sun still below the horizon
As Venus fades quickly in the light