Six Haiku, Almost
(Philadelphia, Sunday December 20th 2020)
I walk down into
Our forest, the breath of pines
Crisp over the snow
Bright sky through dark limbs.
My boot heels sink into black.
Cold and wet, this world
Lifts up, clean and spare.
I live between white and white
Greens and blues stripped bare
Until suddenly
Three does rush through, hoofs on snow
Circling, turning home.
I turn too. My breath
Is hot, steaming in the still
Blanket of this world.
My boots by the front door,
Our house warm as laundered sheets,
This home, us, breathing.