I will investigate until I die. A bird lands on a fence post. My first breath outside on a winter morning speaks a frosty sentence and drifts off. When my hand sticks to a cold pipe, I have joined the winter club. When the sneaky wind finds a crack in my coat, I feel the grip of zero.
Winter is, if anything, a surprise in ice.
Two Haiku Our supper table, magnet of our emotions, lies covered with crumbs. Give me a breath at a time and keep your reality. Show me a round orange moonrise and I will fully embrace illusion. I look into your eyes and I see the absolute reality of illusion. Then it is that I forget the illusion of reality.