Cape winter

for Janine and Martin Barr

These short old haiku

in translation encompass

how adrift we are.

***

How the haiku’s words,

so few, and their late winter influence

break my heart!

***

Cape winter evening:

from the stoep the slow knock

of the dog scratching.

***

The house hustles:

I sit in the quiet winter

corner of my mind.

***

Back from the bonsai nursery:

pots, and bits of time and growth,

clutter the winter table-top.

***

The solstice passed: this morning

empty bonsai pots nudge each other

like shy bachelors.

***

The juniper plant waits for spring:

small, low ‒  in a black plastic pot,

still sporting her price tag.

***

Collecting our poetry books

from the arranged restaurant

‒ stanzas sizzling like those spring onions.

***

The printed poetry book

in hand, with pages new

and familiar.

***

Crisp and hopeful this

mid-winter morning:

whistle of the dove’s wings.

***

The winter solstice

but days gone by:

the dove flaps up with a twig.

***

Writing awhile

these Cape winter mornings:

nerve knitting.

***

Bustling in the house,

getting ready: Cape wedding

this midwinter afternoon!

***

All the boys here

‒ catch up talk: outside,

listening from this writing spot.

***

Wedding in the wine-lands:

already these cold dry vines,

pruned back, know the spring.

 - Brian Walter