With cloud cover so frequent, catching sight of the moon — clear or fuzzed over — makes days and nights more bearable as we face Berkshire December, January, February…Before going to bed on Friday, December 6, I notice it.
A White Coin At The Tree Tips
First a bright blur of
The clouds. Then, gone. All dark. Now
Clear, sharp, whole-looking.
A Week To Full Moon
Fast-flowing clouds cause
Your show. then go. Branch hatching
Masks your true — lopped — shape.
I think about this, off and on. Who am I to…?
Is it hubris? My
Haiku writing and confi-
Dence in unknown form?
I’m still up when it turns midnight, 12 a. m. on Saturday,, December 7.
Winter Number Games
I set temperature
At 82. Thermostat
Reaches 68
So thermometer
Across the house in living
Room will read toasty
54 beside
The recliner where I and
Mutzl most hang out.
I know that’s cheating because those are not stand-alone haiku. Twenty-first century, American, Berkshire knock offs.
Berkshire Mountain Bakery
We stopped while it snowed.
First, I tasted garlic butter.
Bought a rye. Then, sweets.
I’m still sav’ring my
Almond croissant — subtle, crisp,
Tender, almond-sweet.
I finger-lick up
Crumbs that fall to my jacket
Half a day later.
Sweet, creamy, butt’ry.
I can wax poetic all
Day and night /bout these.
I roll the little
Wax bag — now wrinkly –to keep
For more morning yums.
I would get up and
Stretch but Mutzl’s lying on
Me. Hate to wake him.
After a pleasant night’s sleep and presleep pastry, why does something like this come to me at 5 in the morning?
Exponential Transgressions
Trump’s like a bad aunt.
Even after you’ve stopped him,
He’s even bolder.
At least I can get back to cosmic realities.
Snow Clouds Departing
A high bright star out
The window. It’s the dog! It’s
Canus Major running.
His master’s shoulder’s
Sunk totally behind trees.
Forget Orion!
Many shapes of stars
I cannot identify..
Looking intended.
Mutzl Curled Asleep
The air’s so cold on
The porch. You do not want to
Wake and walk out yet.
So I do stretches and try the rye. Four or five of the little end slices. It’s supposed to have caraway seeds kimmel — but they’re hard to discern.
Berkshire Mountain Rye
Maybe not as yum
As my memory of Bauer’s.
Can’t eat memory.
Still, it’s here. It’s fresh
And soft. Could taste more rye. More
Kimmel. More sticky.
By now, at 7 a. m….
It’s light outside but
I don’t want to get up yet.
Close the lamp. Close eyes.
