how cold is it?

It's so cold:

• outdoor statues are wearing coats
• a witches's tits are wearing a heated bra
• Frosty the Snowman slept in the garage
• squirrels are hiding nuts in Aruba
• polar bears are applying to become equatorial bears
• I can't think of anymore
• add your own

haiku 1 winter 2018

crackling-nostril cold

breath exhalations rising

vertical ice plumes

winter haiku 3

pontifical plumes

alabaster frigid dawn

single-digit crunch

winter haiku redux

rain to gloppy snow

soundtracks this silent dark night

train whistle blowin'

the snow, the ice, and other things

Even I, who champions the seasons and Upstate New York and the arduous climate as building character, must say, "Enough already." But to whom would I say it? And what would it change? So, along with all who endure this long winter, I must merely accept it. And store it as a memory of coolness in the blazing dog days of summer. I remain grateful for having the chance to be part of it all.

arc of light

Inform, tell, and remind yourself: March is around the corner. The temperature tide will turn. The trajectory projects warmth. More light. It is given. The arc of light shall not be denied. This polar grip will loosen. Believe it.

icicles

eaves’ teeth
stalactites
clenched at midnight
melting at noon
mocking eternity
and July
growing longer
pointedly
all the way
down
to
the
last
drop

the sparrows

I descend the stairs. I am halted by the sight of a sparrow in the tree just outside the window in the hallway. Often, there are many sparrows. Do sparrows have families? We eye each other, the sparrow and I. Faint hints of yellow in his feathers. Or hers. I don't know. The sparrow knows I am there, on the other side of want and coldness. And I know the sparrow is out there, enduring the wind and cold and snowflakes, protected slightly by shrubbery branches and the paltry warmth of fellow or sister sparrows. Does he care? My impulse to take in the sparrows, offering them shelter and warmth, borders on the insane, I quickly realize. Plus, to do so -- despite its do-gooder-ness, would prove fatal to the sparrows, I am sure. 

winter haiku #3 2014

at winter window / comb-toothed icicles stand guard / refusing to melt

winter haiku #1 2014

flaky detritus / white dusting chickadee branch / now solitary 

snow white but is it really?

welcome, sister snow
welcome, brother crystalline
hello, fury wind
be here, December
swirl here, colorless dance

February

now that we've flipped over January only to see the page of February we can declare that spring is creeping in despite wintry mixes and ice and icicles and snow and slush and snowmelt and winter x games and slalom and wind chill and blustery et alia despite all that pitchers and catchers report in 12 days like 12 steps to recovery and even embedded in the corner of the February page is March ready to march or creep into our personal time zones so do not despair spring is almost around the corner February may prove to be brutal and frigid but can we demand of it that it is the last full and entire month of weatherly winter because in March surely there will be some respite from all those despites.

here came the sun

today in syracuse here came the sun echoing george harrison's refrain reframing reality here in brighter hues and ambient awareness resolution of detail almost forgotten lifting one's spirit by not so subtle surprise because i for one truly cannot tell you the last day of such clarion sunshine was it november it makes a difference doesn't it it seems to prohibit uppercase letters if nothing else but all else is up up up and who knows how real so called seasonal effective disorder sad is but whoa seeing solarity seeing warmth incarnate feeling rays of our system of solar radiation is itself enough to break one into a good day sunshine even in syracuse so let the wintry wind up bird puff up and sing soprano or whatever key of glee

pen ultimate haiku 2010 redux

icicles melting

dripping sheer fragile peril

hurling no warning

solo haiku

crunched-snow bootprints gray

broken palimpsest portraits

eaten by salt, steps

2010's first haiku (by me)

crystalline whirlpools

albino road blindnesses

eyes wide shut open

post-solstice haiku

darkest night shortest

day light whispering secrets

of summer orchids

Sparkling Words of Wintry Inaugural

I was a bit harsh on myself yesterday. I can see now the ambivalence in the phrase "winter of our discontent." It can conceivably mean not only the ebb, the terminus of a time of discontent, but also a winter consisting of discontent. The latter meaning was ignored when Mr. Kokonuts called himself a "simple mind" or some such yesterday.

It turns out that Pawlie Kokonuts was a bit of a prescient pundit in using this wintry metaphor. Barack Obama closed his inauguration speech with rich winter symbolism, drawing on words of George Washington.

Here's the excerpt:

In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

"Let it be told to the future world...that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive ... that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it]."

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

The Winter of Our Discontent?

Being an English major (LeMoyne College, 1970), I know that "Now is the winter of our discontent" are the opening words to William Shakespeare's play Richard III, a tragedy whose eponymous cinematic portrayal by Sir Laurence Olivier I still remember.

I confess my simple mind has sometimes been confused by those lines. Um, let me see: if it's the winter of the discontent, then it must equal the season of content, right? Huh? Yeah, Pawlie.

I am taking these lines terribly out of context -- and Richard III is a villain -- but my prayer is that it may indeed be the winter of our discontent and that it may indeed be true that "grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front."

God bless Barack Obama on his journey, on our journey.

And here's some majestic footage to enjoy.

Solstice

winter roars in with wind and snow

brightness inches incrementally

onto the screen from here on

white on white on dark