Haibun Today
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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Editor
Volume 5, Number 4, December 2011



Stanley Pelter
Claypole, Lincolnshire, England

 

again snow

Watch television football. Sleep. Jolted by lost heartbeats, wake. Not yet dark. It is late spring by slower time on my infamous space clock. Thick snowstorm. Out-of-date flaky silver season faintly disturbs. Forecasters did not warn it would cross our secret sea. Am certain they did not. Now, nobody knows who is buried. Churchyard different above than below frozen.

tuned sleep blends
into oblique statements
back to front duvet

Should not snow inside this new season. Fruit blossom colours disfigure, magnificent trees stilled. This is not snow time, not snow time at all. But here it is. Fragile. Fertile. Already window frames disfigure. Koi-filled pond reconfigures. Every scrap of shaped perspective is a snowflake mutiny.

through wet glass
patterns of ice shattered leaves
spiders adapt

Angled moon colour, graveyard-melting headstones, just heard sounds of snowflake weights. He is not now certain they are heard. There is nothing else moving, so what other can it be? Watches distance close in on his age-weathered gate. Such a short time awake.

inside a new white
red peonies disappear
light in space defers

Will stand in a koi-filled, dead pond. Will stand still. Will be covered before sculptured into an ice statue colossus.

end

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