It creeps round my collar,
it slinks up my sleeves,
steals through the soles
of my shoes with such ease,
spies on the small of my back
and nips at the nape of my neck;
my fingers, my toes,
my ear lobes, my nose,
all start at the sharp touch,
the cold steel,
the grip
of winter
tangle of branches
choking view of distant hills
black twisted fingers
Summer memories
of simmering heat and sea?
Winter disbelief
Nine word story and senryu rolled into one (image: Broad Haven South, Pembrokeshire)
sun at a standstill
shortest day soon done, then starts
the cycle anew
midwinter 2014 was 21st December in the northern hemisphere
no leaves left on trees
last season’s clothes lost and, turned
to sludge, washed away
vistas, then and now:
what a difference some months
make to the outlook
crystal counterpane
quilts the quiet countryside
clothes the fields in white
winter blues banished
warm sun heating window seat
seasons come and go
fallen
forest
pines
after
winter
storms
shallow roots of dying conifers
tree trunks like a giant game
of pick-up-sticks
though ash tree’s in leaf
winter’s kindling still burns bright,
those twigs leaving ash
Zenrinji 