a poem in my pocket

at home in our white-sided farm house, i’m poised to write as i sit by my small white-laminate study desk in our quiet, white-walled guest room.  bare square of first day of new year on the white-paged calendar stares back at me.  i look out white-framed window before me into our white-drifted snowy grove, hoping for inspiration but mind feels blank, like tv screen white-out.

over past year, i’ve often gazed out this same window, inspired by natural scene of trees with white-sunlit leaves waving in breezes.  i’ve watched white-puffed daydream clouds sail summer skies while squirrels played in the grass, rising on haunches to show white-furred bellies.

why would someone park canoe trailer with white-topped carrier full of life vests right in center of my woodsy window view?  old skeletal metal rack with two aluminum white-stickered canoes mounted upside down and tied with bungee straps distracts my vision.  without the sun, everything feels cold on this white-iced winter day.

it’s twenty-twenty

year clear for perfect vision

life needs fresh outlook

I wrote this on Jan. 1 and it seems to fit with Bjorn’s “beginning(again)” haibun challenge at dVerse poets pub.