Guide Snow Falling on Turkey- 25 Christmas Haiku

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But I'll not venture in the drift Out of this bright security, Till enough footsteps come and go To make a path for me.

November 29, 2005

Farewell brave day as twilight draweth nigh. Perchance on morrow sun will gather high. Hours later near dawn When I look down again The whole landscape has changed The perfect surface gone Criss-crossed and written on where the wild creatures ranged while the moon rose and shone.

Celebrating the haiku and related poetry of Chad Lee Robinson

Why did I hear no sound There on the snow-locked ground In the tumultuous dark? How much can come, how much can go When the December moon is bright, What worlds of play we'll never know Sleeping away the cold white night After a fall of snow.

November « « f/k/a archives . . . real opinions & real haiku

And from the forest all wild things That crept or flew obeyed love's call, And learned from him the golden words Of brotherhood for one and all. Cold and early darkness now descends, Embracing sanctuaries of delight. More and more he stares into the night, Becoming less and less concerned with ends, Emblem of the innocent as sage Restored to wonder by what he must yield.

When did solitude become mere loneliness and the sounds of birds at the feeder seem not like a calibrated music but the discordant dialects of strangers simply flying through? I have tried to construct a life alone here -- coffee at dawn; a jog through the chilling air counting my heartbeats, as if the doctor were my only muse; books and bread and firewood -- those usual stepping-stones from month to freezing month.

When will you be coming back? I have looked down the saddest city lane I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street,. But not to call me back or say goodbye; And further still at an unearthly height; One luminary clock against the sky.

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night. Through bare trees I can watch the hawk perched on a distant branch, black silhouetted wings shaking feathers and snow, and so can its prey. Through bare trees I can be winter's innocence, unashamed needfulness, the thin and reaching limbs of a beggar, longing to touch but the hem of the sun.

He knew at last that he had been a fool, To think of breaking the forest rule, And choosing a dress himself to please, Because he envied the other trees. But it couldn't be helped, it was now too late, He must make up his mind to a leafless fate!

So he let himself sink in a slumber deep, But he moaned and he tossed in his troubled sleep, Till the morning touched him with joyful beam, And he woke to find it was all a dream. For there in his evergreen dress he stood, A pointed fir in the midst of the wood!

Turkey Weather Snowfall

His branches were sweet with the balsam smell, His needles were green when the white snow fell. And always contented and happy was he, The very best kind of a Christmas tree. With the last year's brand Light the new block, and For good success in his spending, On your Psaltries play, That sweet luck may Come while the log is a-tinding. Drink now the strong beer, Cut the white loaf here, The while the meat is a-shredding; For the rare mince-pie And the plums stand by To fill the paste that's a-kneading. You will be singing, just the same as I, These familiar songs we know so well, And you will see these same stars in your sky And wish upon that brightest one that fell.

I shall remember you and trim my tree, One shining star upon the topmost bough; I will hang wreaths of faith that all may see -- Tonight I glimpse beyond the hear and now. And all the time that we must be apart I keep a candle in my heart. Linton, Candlelit Heart. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay. Good tidings we bring to you and your kin. We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!

ASAHI HAIKUIST NETWORK/ David McMurray

Outside the Snow is falling and friends are calling yoo hoo; Come on its lovely weather for A sleigh ride together with you. Just look at the show, Were riding in a wonderland of snow. Our cheeks are nice and rosy and Comfy cozy are we, Were snuggled Upp together like birds of A feather would be. Just hear those sleigh bells ringing and jing ting tingaling too Come on its lovely weather for A sleigh ride together with you. Come on its lovely weather for A sleigh ride together with you.

They lighted candles in the winter trees; They hung their homes with evergreen; They burned beseeching fires all night long To keep the year alive, And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake They shouted, reveling. Through all the frosty ages you can hear them Echoing behind us - Listen!! All the long echoes sing the same delight, This shortest day, As promise wakens in the sleeping land: They carol, fest, give thanks, And dearly love their friends, And hope for peace. And so do we, here, now, This year and every year.

Welcome Yule!! What sort of man at such a time would come to visit the teacher? As this is not a time for flowers, I find I've come alone. You may know me as the Green Man or as the Winter King. I rule from Midsummer to Midwinter, and my reign culminates in the festivities of Yuletide. As the wren dies to make way for the robin, soon I will bow before my brother the Oak King. You will not see me again until the Sun once more begins to wane. Carry a sprig of holly with you as my token.

It will protect you against fierce winter storms, and will bestow upon you the focus, direction and courage you need to succeed in your own spiritual quest. Fill your homes with holly this season!


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Deck the halls! My evergreen leaves and bright red berries, seen against the barren oaks of winter, will remind you of the Life that sustains us during the bitterest time of the year.


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  8. An Alaskan marooned in the urban Midwest, it took me years to find this nearby patch of relatively undisturbed land where I can sense the power of wildness. Now I go there often, watching the seasons unfold their changeful unchanging patterns in the increasingly familiar forest. I especially like to walk among the sleeping trees in the half-lit silence of winter dawns.

    The trail I follow winds and twists, new patches of mixed woodland appearing at every turn. That morning, I reached a point where the path turns sharply left to follow a small ravine. But in frozen winter, I expected nothing beyond silence and wind. So I did not see them at first, three deer beside three empty larches.

    I stopped in my tracks, thinking how lucky I was to meet the animal my Celtic forebears called the spirit of wildness on that auspicious day. Snow comes and goes as messenger who dreamed Might linger on the road; or one who deemed His message hostile gently for their sakes Who listened might reveal it by degrees.

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    We gird against the cold of winter wind Our loins now with mighty bands of sleep, In longest, darkest nights take rest and ease, And every shortening day, as shadows creep O'er the brief noontide, fresh surprises find. Links and References. Ancient Origins of the Holidays.

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