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
