Three keys we had cut
Three keys, and not a one, here
Found!! and yet…. one lock: broke
The couch makes the room
Chocolate brown, it’s ours, for real
Then – heart and it, sunk!
Sure, it can be fixed
or, we’ll get our money back
yet i crave perfect
laptop replacement
new work machines: fast, sleek, new
i liked the old one
Still, the day has come
new laptop, new world arise
I’m 50th from last
for more Washwords’ (and friends) haikus see Haiku You
The car breaking down, the writing I have (and want) to do, feeling less blah and more superstar at work, not reacting to perceived injustices with emotion and drama? I’m working on these.
But shovelling? That I can do.
[Mr. Moon, DonCsabito on flickr]
It takes me home, to my youth, to my first quasi-grown-up experience: college with my green snap-together plastic shovel in my Nissan Maxima station wagon trunk, digging MYSELF out, getting my own snow tires (or not), falling for the “winterizing package” at Jiffy Lube.
But shovelling? Shovelling is home. When it’s powdery bluewhite crystal, and swishes off the plastic and crinkles under your toes? A chill in your nose, but the light from the house warming your path, showing you are not far from your long winter’s nap.
Winter walking? the whoosh whoosh crunch of the still blue night and my boots and mittens swishing and stretching. That is home and it is a good one.
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Cough cough cough cough cough.
Coughity cough cough, cough cough.
Cough cough cough. COUGH COUGH!
Debate? No debate?
Candidates love and love not
Lets get it started.
Metro whistlers, SHHHH!
Sometimes I wake up grumpy,
sometimes let him sleep
“solved.” without mccain.
it’s raining in washington
since obama left
snowdrifts of paper
email, voice-mail, lists to do
how to shovel out
and yet, even here,
even now, with so much flux
there is peace. in love.
for more Washwords’ (and friends) haikus see Haiku You
