WINTER
The house in darkness. I watch thick flakes, descending slowly.
They seem suspended as if in a viscous liquid.
Bushes assume a rounded shape; fences appear to sink into the ground.
A deep quiet, without and within.
Even the mechanical voices of
the appliances subdued and still.
I stand transfixed.
falling snow—
between dusk and darkness
there is no time
Contemporary Haibun
Print Journal April 2005