Happy New Year

I could sit for hours (as long as my daughter snores quietly on my bed and my son is playing outside in the snow), looking out my window at the expanse of new fallen snow in my backyard. Mini-storms erupt sporadically around the yard, white clumps falling from tree branches in bursts from quick winds. Or maybe the spoonfuls of snow are being shovelled off by house-proud birds.

The prompt at One Deep Breath this week is frost. I will not even mention the way my eyes meet my husband's. That is another type of frost altogether. I know it's not good to carry bad feelings into a new day, let alone a new year. Bad karma. I'm an artist. I'm German (way back there somewhere), I hold grudges. What can I say? I like to think my heartfelt haiku evens the score, cleanses my soul.

Two of these haiku are also appearing at Watermark's New Year Haiku Party. Check it out!

On every branch snow,
in all particles of breath
no two dreams alike.

First day of the year.
Wishes ride in on snow flakes,
ride out on black slush.

Each morning frost shines
slides icy quilt on windows
tiptoes out with sun.

Snow's dopplenganger
thinner, harder, cold to core
frost--prodigal ice.

Weightless new year snow
falls without sound from tree branch.
Oak longs to be nude.

Winter knows no date.
Snow falls, ice creeps, frost smothers
chill will expire.