Catching Cold Fire
A collection of fall haiku written in October and November
I’ve gathered up all the seasonal haiku I’ve been composing in the Notes section of Substack. I know not all my readers here follow me on Notes, so here’s your chance to see what I’ve been writing over there. And it’s also nice to have them all in one place— I think they make a good poem sequence read all together.
Most of these were originally posted with photographs, some of them were responses to paintings or other people’s art or other people’s photos; but not all of them had accompanying pictures. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to publish them here as a sequence or to reproduce the pairings of poems and pictures. But for the sake of brevity and for ease in posting, I think I’m going to let the poems stand as they are and post some of my photos in a couple of galleries.
October
The sunflower turns a curious eye downwards at you looking up. prostrate sunflowers bow before the storm’s power golden heads laid low. not thunder— but the blunder of trashcans rolling down driveways. dim October rain a blast of color— zinnias pink, red, gold, purple one by one red leaves drift down, revealing skeletal branches golden coins drop soft, brocading the lawn, leaving branches bare like bones the parking lot wears a maple leaf like a medal — what war did it win? shrouded in gray mists the red sun hums shyly to herself Ragged oaks shiver begging the wind to please leave them some dignity some days the sky’s blue feels impossible — you drink in all you can hold locust pods curl black— like witchy fingernails, they clutch, claw, catch at hearts
November
Saving Daylight?
two times a year we
fight uselessly against time
but still the earth tilts
November midnight—
the hunter, hound at heel,
strides across the sky
red maple, nearly
leafless, catches new moon’s perfect
silver roundness
old gold poured
liquid fire lingers behind
lines of leafless trees
Cloudful November sky
Flows between the slow rows
of coppery trees
Past peak— Foliage
fallen, wild winds have wasted.
Now comes bone season.
then cruel cold arrives
turning bright zinnias black
driving life indoors
sometimes November
is kind: bestows ice jewels
after she blights green
November slumber
color fades except deepest blue
lines are all that’s left
Each flake a star
She, queen of constellations—
Our Lady of Snows
Red skies shiver
at midnight —catching cold fire
from silvery stars
I have so many favorites that I can't highlight them all. One of them:
"not thunder—
but the blunder of trashcans
rolling down driveways."
The pictures are gorgeous. I really liked being able to read the haiku all in a row, but still get the pictures at the beginning and the end. Like Ann says, they tell a story all together like that.
I hear the collection telling the story of your autumn days—like a journal in haiku. I love that.