halloween haiku

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moon, skeleton trees

creepy crawlies, ghosts, and such

tis the witching hour

*****

glowing orange pumpkins

scowls, evil carvings from flesh

ward off lurking ghouls

*****

october again

cooler, crisper, sharper air

summer season closed

****

for all hallow’s eve

opening doors to strangers

trusting holiday

septober

a haiku.

darkness falls early
sucking summertime warmth, light
leaves: yellow tinges

(i love this time of year, but dang if i don’t miss the sunlight. not looking forward to SAD.)

from: http://www.tntnphotos.com/2014/06/autumn-leaves-2/

from: http://www.tntnphotos.com/2014/06/autumn-leaves-2/

DST: a haiku

daylight saving time
pushing light to the day’s end
i will give up sleep

 

(i bought my dad a martha stewart cookie cookbook a couple years ago for christmas. i’m thinking of borrowing it from him and making all the cookies in it for him throughout the year for his bday. i wonder how many recipes are in the book…)

in like a lion?

welcome march!

unfortunately, it was snowing today and the day got colder as it went on, so i’m calling this one entering like a lion. the average high for this day is mid 30s. something’s weird here.

just the idea of spring is the only thing i can hold onto right now. get past all the muddy, mucky, melty stage, and just thinking about the little hints of green everywhere…what is that even like anymore? i see pictures, but it’s been too long. all i want to do is smell the earth, see the green, and feel the sun. let go winter; let go.

a haiku:
in like a lion
welcome overstayed, winter
let’s get our green on

seasons

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i’m not making up a new season. i’m giving a name to something that already exists: sprummer.

it’s the last two weeks of may and first couple weeks of june, when spring’s already sprung but summer’s not yet summed. everything’s green and chlorophylly, but the weather’s still in the 70s and perfect. the sun stays up late and gets up early, plants are breaking free of the soil, and the last remnants of cold in the earth are gone.

a haiku:

green, warm sprummertime
winter: distant memory
hold tight; it’s fleeting.