(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley
(#163)
old apples
frozen to the ground
the silent orchard
…..
(#164)
juniper berries
blue sky’s children nestle
in cedar cradles
…..
(#165)
my horse is old
and my cart is broken
the depths of winter
…..
(#166)
winter granary
rice sacks are empty
and spring may never come
…..
(#167)
thoughtless chickadees
bear the winter’s burden
while I succumb
…..
(#168)
in the evening snow
hare tracks on the mountain path
silent, soon to fade
Silent Pariah 
β€οΈπ
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Thanks, Scarlett! π
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You’re welcome π€π
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in the granary
rice sacks are empty
and spring may never come
β¦..
Oh that’s so touching ,
My heart wishes for spring to arrive
All the bushes, herbs, trees reviveβ€οΈβ€οΈ
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Thank you, Reena. Your response, “My heart wishes for spring to arrive / All the bushes, herbs, trees revive,” is a poem unto itself! I’m glad you liked this one. Thanks so much. )
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Always my pleasure
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A few beauties here Mike, #163, # 165 and #166 flow especially nice together π€β
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Thank you, Xenia. I had a bit of a farm theme going tonight, I reckon. I’m so pleased you liked these. Thanks so much! π
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These are all really great, Mike. #168 really stood out for me. I could see it as if it was a painting. gorgeous.π
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Thanks, Grace. It’s only 5:07 a.m. here but you’ve already made my day! I was so unsure of #168 and fretted over it for a couple of hours. I’m glad you saw something it that I missed. Much appreciated. π
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Very welcome, Mike.My pleasure.π
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Hi Mike, I really like #163 as we have some old apple trees by our house and this haiku captures them perfectly!
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Thanks, Mark. Growing up on the farm, there was an apple tree outside my bedroom window. It was sickly looking most of the time and only bore fruit–tiny green apples–for a few seasons, then began to wither away. I have a poem about it here on my blog. I wish we’d had an orchard growing up. There was an old abandoned apple orchard a few miles north of the farm and we picked some once. Apples are so iconic to farm life and country living. Glad you liked this one. π
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A remarkably good collection, my friend. πππ
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Thanks, Lamittan. I certainly appreciate it, good sir! π
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Most welcome, my dearest of friends.
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βmy horse is old
and my cart is broken
the depths of winterβ
but I can see the lamp is on by your window, and your yard is open.
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A hopeful counterpoint to a solemn thought. π
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“in the granary
rice sacks are empty
and spring may never come”
is it in winter…..
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Yes–I’ve edited it for clarity. π
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“old apples
frozen to the ground
the silent orchard”
but the tree is still facing up…. listening to the sky….
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And that tree will endure the winter and live again in the spring…
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“thoughtless chickadees
bear the winterβs burden
while I succumb”
you must have a bird feeder in your backyard……., and a bird feeder never fall.
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I love chickadees. On the farm where I grew up, I called them “snow-hoppers” since they bopped around on the ground as they sought after food. It was so delightful seeing all those little black and gray dots against the stark white of the snow. I like the thought of their endurance and obliviousness to the trials of winter, hence shouldering the burden, while I seem unable to persevere through the cold months.
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“in the evening snow
hare tracks on the mountain path
silent, soon to fade”
but the words she wrote on her path will reside in you.
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This is beautiful and touching. I appreciate how you see the positive aspects in everything. π
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Beautiful, melancholic and brilliantly infused with magical realism!π
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Thanks, Aaysid. Your kind words mean more than you can imagine. π
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It is always a pleasure.π
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So much said in so few words. I enjoyed reading this.ππ½ππ½ππ½
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I really appreciate your kind comment. I’m glad these spoke to you! π
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“my horse is old
and my cart is broken
the depths of winter”
“in the evening snow
hare tracks on the mountain path
silent, soon to fade”
Your poetic crystal ball has scryed my existence. I am clearly the horse, the cart is obviously my life, and my future is the hare tracks fading in the depth of winter. I am destined to become Jack Nicholson at the end of “The Shining.”
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Well, join the club, Rhyan! These two haiku are definitely autobiographical and I have precisely the same sentiments about them as you do. Sometimes life really does feel like one big snowed-in Overlook Hotel. π I’ve actually been to Estes Park, CO (the location of this hotel, whose real-life name is the Stanley Hotel) but never actually saw the hotel (maybe that’s a good thing?). I suppose both of us can hope for an early thaw and a proliferation of wild flowers to guide us along the mountain path. Always glad to read your reviews, good sir. Thanks so much for reading and commenting. π
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