First, the Haiku. February is the month of the Haiku-a-thon! Few Miles is a site which actively encourages poets to write twenty-eight haiku during February - one for each day of the month.
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| Image courtesy Krazykk's Weblog |
Contemplating snow.
No plans to shovel it; just
contemplating. Snow.
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Cobbled Bricks
I gingerly tread on old cobbled bricks
which pave the roadway to dark parts, unknown.
I seek Charon to navigate this Styx
but friendless am I on brick-laden stone.
Which door will lead to the warmth of the hearth?
Which door will lead to the chill of a Swarth*?
Crossing these cobbles and bricks bring me fear.
All that surrounds me is cold and austere.
I take but a step, and then look around.
Nothing’s familiar and nothing feels close
except for dread on a scale grandiose;
except for ghosts of the dead that abound.
And then, when all hope has vanished – a light.
It beckons me home, to end this drear night.
(* According to Webster's Dictionary, 1913, one definition of a 'Swarth' is an apparition of a person about to die; a wraith.)
which pave the roadway to dark parts, unknown.
I seek Charon to navigate this Styx
but friendless am I on brick-laden stone.
Which door will lead to the warmth of the hearth?
Which door will lead to the chill of a Swarth*?
Crossing these cobbles and bricks bring me fear.
All that surrounds me is cold and austere.
I take but a step, and then look around.
Nothing’s familiar and nothing feels close
except for dread on a scale grandiose;
except for ghosts of the dead that abound.
And then, when all hope has vanished – a light.
It beckons me home, to end this drear night.
(* According to Webster's Dictionary, 1913, one definition of a 'Swarth' is an apparition of a person about to die; a wraith.)
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