Over the Christmas weekend we had our first big blizzard and I was snowed in until the day after. We gathered on the twenty-seventh. The grandbaby passed out gifts and watched as each was opened. At one point, she crawled into my lap and put her head on my shoulder, a first.
New Year’s Eve brought a concert of fireworks from the neighbors three hours before midnight. By the strike of the gong we were mid-thunderstorm that ended up melting all of the snow. There were still a few guns going off, but not as many as usual.
Now that the months-long human festivities have wound down, it is a good time to regard and listen to nature’s muted tones. It’s a time to read poetry and philosophy and to consider whether or not to lay a template down for twenty twenty-three.
new page written with old pen
warm hearth fire crackles
top image: younger son and his daughter on Christmas 2022, taken by daughter in-law
Kim is today’s host of dVerse’ Haibun Monday as we reconvene at the poets pub. Kim says:
This week, I would like you to write about your feelings towards this New Year and/or what you do in the first few days of January. Aim to write no more than three short, tight paragraphs, followed by a traditional haiku that includes reference to the season.