Winter Digest, pt. 2

Night paces

(02.24.25)

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4 haiku

Snow piled in mounds.
Protective layer, perhaps,
To buffer the fear.

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Cold cracks hands, face, ears.
Snow sounds different, strained.
I still ski the trail.

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I heard cardinal,
chickadee calling to sun
grace this world, love us.

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Something just over
the ridge, looming like fire,
licking snow and ice.

(02.20.25)

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Paradise

The world was all before them, where to choose… — John Milton, “Paradise Lost”

Last weekend
a low noise
the front desk
the size of a teakettle
an old space
the narrow space
of this labyrinth
so many words.

It’s a disaster
just facts
“Both.”

The courtyard
flushed face
background noise
light and air
a question
a devotional gesture
a head start
the essay title
the meaning of
a coffee cup, perhaps
something strange.

(02.14.25)

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My friend Kenric

(02.23.25)

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Knitting at night

She is knitting at night. Her back is turned to me because she is keeping the cat company, who is dozing on the sofa. Her companion. Her audience. The click of the needles keeps time. My pencil slides over the tooth of the paper, searching for contours and volumes. The two of us keep focus. She, on yarn and pattern and movement. Me, on strands of wheat silk, draped cloth, and folds. (02.22.25)

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Two thousand twenty-five

(02.16.25)

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These fragments were originally posted at http://jbeau.info.