When I can’t get off my butt, there’s nothing like a kick to do the trick.
I’m beginning to value pain. To reinforce that value I think of it as the whispering of angels calling me to pay attention. Of course, I could just as well think of it as a kick in the butt, but this is supposed to be a poem, and there is more to reality than meets the eye.
This is also supposed to be about spring, but all I hear about is winter. So. More snow? Or is it time for winter to get off its butt and go?
PAST WINTRY PAIN COMES SPRING-BOLD RAIN WE START AGAIN
Maple trees rest in the snow Covered with their fallen leaves. Winter’s wind will come and go, But maple trees stand in the snow. Their roots hold on. Let winter go And have its way. Though some may grieve, The maple trees wait in the snow Covered calmly by their leaves.
Winter locks the door on Spring
Frigid in the sack.
There’s snow and trees without their leaves.
Clean white suggests a lack
Unless it’s looking back.
Text: I am trying a variation of Japanese tanka that William N. Porter used to translate the The Hyakunin-isshu in 1909. He used five iambic lines of 8-6-8-6-6 syllables with an end-rhyme on the shorter lines. There should be a pivot of the meaning at the third line separating and then reconnecting the top and bottom two lines.
Photos: “Snow Capped”, above, “Love of Winter”, below, linked to K’lee and Dale’s Cosmic Photo Challenge with the theme “the look of love”.