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
