God rest you merry

Kristjaan at Carpe Diem encourages us to write a “full circle” haiku series using twelve words (bold), one per line in listed order, on a wintertime theme.

hoar frost on window
breath of heaven’s mist on trees
morning light sparkles

scent of mistletoe
cuddle under soft blanket
fireplace embers glow

poem of december
children praying for first snow
clouds whisper promise

lights on Christmas tree
wrap gifts in shiny paper
smile to see bright star


shimo no koe

Haibun is a Japanese form of prose and poetry (haiku) together.  I’m joining Victoria with dVerse Poets writing haibun about “first frost’s voice” (shimo no koe).


We actively anticipate the first frost of fall, working as a team ahead of the weather’s uncertain clock. The last tomatoes, some green ones, must be claimed off the vines and colorful peppers plucked from dying garden. This home-grown produce is chopped with harvested onions into tantalizing picante sauce to be admired in pint jars on shelf before smeared on tortilla chips.

Our prodigious pair of apple trees generously offer basketfuls of blushing fruit to family and friends willing to pick. The dropped or blemished fruit are treats rolled under fence to eager cows. Contentment wafts on spiced fragrance of apple-pie-in-a-jar syrup that simmers in large pot on basement stove. Steam from water bath canner spreads warm humidity indoors.

Fall rain dampens farmers’ spirits, swells soybeans in their pods, and muddies fields. “A killing frost is what we need” for corn stalks to die so matured ears plump with kernels can be harvested. The farmer checks weather forecast every night. At last, it steals in with the dawn, silently smothering the grass and finishing off the last droopy flowers.


icing on orchard

may ruin or ripen crops

winter’s first whisper



photo by lynn



daikan (great cold) tanka


photo by lynn__


lonely weathervane

midwestern prairie windchill

frosty windowpane



old bones ache in mid-winter

even crows disappear


danger of frost

photo by lynn__

photo by lynn__

hair would shine gray but

sons don’t wish me to look old

frost comes with autumn

(link to CDHK “if taken in my hand”)

silver icing


Jeweled november morning

presents her fragile gifts

wrapped in brittle air


crisp cookie cut-outs of fallen

gingerbread leaves, sprinkled

with sparkling sugar crystals


frosty gems encrust cold

rim of now abandoned birdbath,

an over-sized salted goblet


dead lawn glitters a thousand

clear white diamonds, reflecting

frigid rays of sharp sunlight


piercing tender ears of chilled clouds.




Mixing metaphors here…like a november morning mixes beauty and severity.