jul

2007

The feather is light The book is heavy My heart pounds in

silent snow.

Wet snow and grey sky Is Wave a Bossa Nova The lake will not freeze.

Bricks and dinosaurs We could not sleep either one He to build, I watch.

No one even looked At the words on the

paper I looked at each

shell.

I know they are suppose to be beautiful, one pure thought, like a breath in, or out, but not both. Still its hard to fit anything substantial in a Haiku. I wanted to write one to explain how I felt, about the present, about being here. My son created a pretty calendar at the after school program. Its the last year of this program because then he has to go to school longer hours. He is an artist but does not know it because he is a child. When he is older he may forget this innocent ability. I wanted the calendar, but he first wrote the tag out to his grandmother, maybe he was so excited about being here at Christmas, or maybe another suggested it. I saw it briefly, and left the room and cried. He could not have known that I would value it more. The next day he received a dinosaur from me and we built it all day. I admire his interest.

The gifts were opened in chaos that night. No one could see the others, but I watched the children. I picked up discarded tags and read them and saved many. My daughter had gifts from 9 friends that she had taken with her.

My mother gives me notes to my saxophone, and I fill the morning hours with these. K enjoys the music sent from my mother, but picked out by me. We have dinner at 15.00, and the days are short but hours exist in the dark.

I asked for the art It was important to me As hers is to her

I did not mind the soft wet snow, and the darkness in day, but rested and listened to the mice in the wall. They are behind my head. I think they could touch me, if they wanted to, if they wanted to come in. But it must be nice for them between the walls. They have no need to come nearer.

Days catch red fish fries Red spots and missing an eye No lines out today.

Whispers swirls of green Sideways sleet can smell like snow I leave a footprint.

The ice will not freeze White boys in buffs run about The sax cries loudly.

The clock does not work Maybe it is now Friday Pakistan lost her.

I hardly go outside. It was sleeting sideways, but one day it was good. The brother went fishing alone. K went for a walk alone. I walked to the store alone, before it would close at 14:00. The road was slippery, icy and I took the snow path back. The walk to the shop goes by bridge over the river that leads to the lake. The electric station with turbine empties water into the lake. The lake was black and not frozen. I could not use the GSM network all day. The wind must have knocked out a tower. B caught a fish. B + AK went out to visit friends at night. We ate the fish. We watched the boys run naked with buffs (scarves) on their heads.

If we do nothing Forest spruce wear coats of white Cold land breaths in peace

Crystals reflect low light Hare tracks cross the white The lake at last is frozen.

Cold land and ice air Our gift is time to repair The sun begins home.

This is about the last day of the trip, up here, this time, the last day of the year, happens to be 2007 this year. I walk up behind the house. The last snow has made a fluffy carpet of white, the trees wear coats of white, the boys tracks from before are filled in and various animal tracks cross the white terrain, hare and birds. The forest looks happy now, in white, as if it is its natural color, not the dark and wet, but the cold and light. It is just noon and a bright light pierces the far mountain edge. It is the sun returning, a Sami sun I think, over the mountain edge. Thin ice covers the lake, already I do not see the black. The nature and I we heal by doing nothing. The gift is time to do nothing and we can go home.

Lighter Moments

Its all about the ice

And nature