Still chill

The north wind is still blowing hard here and temperatures have plummeted, down to I°C last night and only reaching 14°C in a blustery sun and cloud. Everything is suffering. Some of the grape vines have wilted in the cold, and the pyramid orchids that shouldn’t really have been out yet.

Last night we brought some of the army of plants waiting to be planted into the porch for shelter and today have been planting out some of the more vulnerable plants: four roses, a honeysuckle, one of the hydrangeas, a passion flower, a mock orange and an apple tree. It’s the tip of the iceberg. I took the photo a couple of weeks ago. The plant family has grown considerably since then and the porch is so full now you can’t walk across it.

Chill strikes deep

tender growth cutting

a scythe

before haymaking time.

Limp the flowers now

that bloomed too soon

and silent the hedge

where new things chirruped and mewled.

A handspin too far too hard

the breath of wind too cold

and spring turns inward

retreats what can

furls what was spread

face to the sun

and waits for better days.

 

When the sun

A poem I wrote last month. Out of season now, but I remember the feeling well. For dverse.

 

I remember when the sun

had lover’s hands

that warmed the skin

and teased the knots

out of bones grown winter cold.

I cover my face from this pale crone

who pinches cheeks

with fingers gnarled

as a dead oak tree.

Too cold

 

Winter is always too cold

for those with bones too close to the skin

and blood too deep in the bone.

Steep me in the warm earth

deep as shoot and seed

feathered with owls calling

from tree to star and back again

for the restless spring.

Haiku sequence: still cold

For Frank Tassone’s haikai challenge.

 

wood stove roars red

and tongued heat licks the walls

on the pond ice cracks

 

night hush falls

stars quiver in the still cold

a burning log sighs

 

morning breaks

still as the white-furred rushes

by the frozen pond

Winter rain haiku

 

too much rain

even the thirsty earth groans

ditches run torrents

Winter rain haiku sequence

 

cat prints on the tiles

bringing the smell of rain

indoors

 

birds on the feeder

pecking in time to rain

pounding on dead leaves

 

wind rattles

rain whispers winter’s not done

too dull to hear

Wishing time away

 

The worst

is the longing

for time to fly onward

beyond this cold wet growing time

winter

ignore seed burst and bird nesting

ditch-fill with bright water

wish cold tumult

warm spring