Spring

The ice thaws
Robins race on mud
Snowdrops rise

Stone Sentry

In the tingling cold
The lion’s mane
Grows large and bold
Coated by a gentle snow
His stone façade
Becomes a show
Of tranquil night
And calming deep
A vigilant guard, at last
Asleep

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White Clusters

In the distance
I espy
The nodule
Tangles
Of thread-thin waves:
White clusters
Bent by stillness.

Misimpression

Snow blankets in a white-dappled veil
Pushed softly by the wind like a curtain
Behind the window, in a cave of warmth
A viewer finds it deceptively gentle

Rebirth

Plum bud under snow
A lonely wind stills its cry
Waiting for rebirth

Snowfall

On branches of snow
A titmouse flits back and forth
A rain of powder

Hibernation

Night which sinks ever more earlier
Lays its blanket of velvet down
Like a hush of snow
It stops and stifles thoughts
For ursine dreams

Birds Before Winter

Winter wrens forecast a season of snow
Maples shed their leaves as a lady does
Peeling off her layers of petticoats
On the lake, mallards drift aimlessly
Blue jays and cardinals flit eagerly;
Peanuts rattle in the birdwatcher’s hand

Snow on Cedars

The snow on cedars
Laces over dark branches
Silent crystals hang

Hostage

He watches with false eyes the lay of the snow
The whiteness a great blankness
Although his brothers tell him the words for it:
The powder that is freshly fallen
The permafrost that refuses to crunch underfoot
The colors of blue like lampshades thrown
Each tint uttered with the same reverence
Shown for a beautiful woman
It is not until much later that he learns he was born
In a palace of eternal summer
And snatched away during the heat of battle
A babe pushed into a cuckoo’s feathers