Today's haiku was about November, which I only mention, because that month has always been a funny one for me. It is the bleakest time of year where I grew up, with fall officially fallen and winter waiting in the wings. The real transition isn't the leaves changing and falling, which is really all part and parcel of spring and summer and growing and being alive. The real transition is November. That's when Hades bursts out and drags Persephone down underground. It's the beginning of the season where growing and being alive are on vacation, down n the Caribbean somewhere, drinking rum and going snorkeling.
I think I wrote about November because I'm struggling a bit to keep the ball rolling. I'm afraid my creative energy is going into hibernation, and it's a grey and gloomy day out. So I write about November and imagine a long, cold winter without writing. It's a sucky thing to imagine, so I'm going to not have that happen.
If my math is right (and it's probably close), it's 78 days til November 1st. Today was day 47 of my highly controversial haiku self challenge. November 1st will be day 125 (again, I think I'm pretty close on the addition here) and that seems a good goal.
In November, I'll write some haiku about August, and think about being hot.
Day 47
bare trees, brittle grass
hard frost - warming your cold hands
under my sweater
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