Six Haiku, Almost (Philadelphia, Sunday December 20th 2020)
I walk down into Our forest, the breath of pines Crisp over the snow
Bright sky through dark limbs. My boot heels sink into black. Cold and wet, this world
Lifts up, clean and spare. I live between white and white Greens and blues stripped bare
Until suddenly Three does rush through, hoofs on snow Circling, turning home.
I turn too. My breath Is hot, steaming in the still Blanket of this world.
My boots by the front door, Our house warm as laundered sheets, This home, us, breathing.