Equinox (haibun)
EQUINOX
Now, walking alone at the edge of winter and woods, not going in but not going on, catching my breath and the first dawn light, a few snowflakes seem not to be falling but simply appearing and settling on the trees too bare yet to hold anything like real snowfall, on a flowering crabapple that has begun to bud but not leaf, and the few flakes that do reach the path disappear as they touch it. And then all are gone.
the smallest twigs
the brief bits of light there
just at their tips
This is the time between seasons, the place I come to most days without thinking, and come to now to find my own place between the nearly past and the not yet present. Though even now there is presence, a soft and tentative voice, from deeper in the woods, neither rising nor falling but sustained a few seconds, the way a last note is held by someone playing a red cedar flute, letting it go on and go back across not just distance but years. And then silence, perhaps of an owl done with the night and settling into its solitude too. But going on now, I see and hear it was not an owl . . .
morning moon
another egg slips
from the nesting dove
Poetry by countryfog
Read 687 times
Written on 2015-03-27 at 23:26
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