A bank of new snow high against the night sky is lit only by the moon. I watch the stars unravel across the sky like a spool of thread a cat unwinds. Then my breath against the window confuses the light obscured. Today I find bits of you left over after you are gone. Will it ever end these small mountains of sadness which need to be climbed during those moments when I think of you lost on the other side? Forgive me for your death and the life we couldn't live. Quieter now, the wind falls into itself. Animals are hiding somewhere in the snow, while the deer want to circle back to find what remains. I circle back against your memory like a flight of birds returning.
dead of winter-- the white noise of snow
in contemporary haibun 6