Connie Marcum Wong
First Snow (Haibun) - Poem by Connie Marcum Wong
Our cold crisp air augurs an early snow before Thanksgiving. I need to look for my warm fur-lined gloves. The snow tires are heaven knows where in our cluttered garage, but they must be searched for now not later, when frozen fumbling fingers complain loudly from the cold. Every year at this time, daydreams of warm weather on a tropic isle are floating through my mind.
floating blossoms drift
like snow in the tropic wind—
sun shines on sunscreen
Back to the reality of the coming winter wind as our aging oak needs to be supported and protected. This beautiful season leaves me with such contrasting feelings of joy and foreboding. Our roof was just replaced from last year’s winter wrath. Every year I swear I will be more precautiously prepared.
bright leaves fall from boughs
leaving them naked and cold—
north winds come early
Grey clouds begin to dominate azure skies that turn into white-out days and I begin to pray while driving on the icy roads. I pray for the safety of all of us who must trudge traffic on these precarious pavements. Careening cars coming towards me haunts my sleep. Black ice threatens to come again, revisiting old fears of the past years.
nimbus clouds gather
to darken frigid white skies—
flurries soon flutter
But then there is the beauty bestowed by blankets of snow covered trees and fences, tracing tree limbs with wondrous white perfect powder. An artist’s dream with a hearth burning bright inside, and outside the bright white of freshly fallen snow. Ice cycles cling to our eves in crystal prisms reflecting rainbows when the sun shyly appears.
as snowflakes descend
mirror lake freezes over—
evergreens will bow
What delight in watching my toddler with her nose pressed up against my winter window in such amazement of how her breath could cause the window to fog up, and how she can draw pictures with her finger on the frosty pane.
A promised sleigh ride brings a smile to her face and mine as we sip hot chocolate with marshmallows. The way she pronounces marshmallows is so sweet and will always remain in my memories of her youth. Snow….bring it on and I will stay warm inside with a favorite book reading rhymes to my little love in my lap.
sleigh bells softly ring
on an adventurous ride—
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You