Spring haiku by Alice Major

Spring haiku

Weather change wind.
Branches swing -- a bull’s wary head,
beast about to charge.

The old struggle renews
between snow and snow-eater
We live right at ringside.

Snow’s rotting teeth.
Caries concealed by crystalline enamel.
Winter loses its bite.

April’s cumulus –
the wind’s sheepskin slippers,
soft soles on air’s blue floor.

© Alice Major

A poem by Alice

The short-sighted poet

I take my glasses off.

The compulsive detail of the world

goes blurred.

I no longer can distinguish

needle of pine

or finer points of sign.

But somehow I can see the warming red

of berries in a mountain ash

across the street.

For my short-sighted eyes,

some trick of how the light waves spread

amplifies

their pinpoint kindling.

I put my glasses on again.

The warm orbs

disappear

into the busy green scribble, the repetitious

blethering edge

of leaves.

And I think, perhaps a lifelong fuzziness

to certain aspects of the world

may not

have been so great a handicap.

It even may

confer advantages if some of us can spot

unnoticed warmth

not far away.

© Alice Major