A Stutter In Seasons

I’ve started to feel like the garden pond. All inky darkness and sheet glass front, spiked in hoarfrost but more vicious than beautiful. Instead of budding, unfolding into spring, I’m sitting silent. Even the pigeons hesitate by my edge, pressing tentative toes to the surface, unsure of my stability. When the temperatures rise, I stay frozen.

Inside winter had no time to settle. The dining room is full of green, from the fig tree to the pepper bush, in the corner a lemon shrub. A rose I bought two years ago is late to bloom though. It grows but all it gives are leaves which turn to brittle crunch in the dustpan. I am starting to give up hope that I will see any flowers.

I know spring will come,

I know this winter will end.

I must learn to wait.


I feel I might have missed the mark with my response to tonight Haibun Challenge. It’s not so much a budding poem as a frozen one, but with the recent weather in England it hasn’t felt very much like spring I’m afraid.


  1. I love the idea of winter not being able to settle in your dining room. Lovely image in my head, of a room full of Mediterranean plants, and a little smidgen of summer…


  2. “When the temperatures rise, I stay frozen.” Yes, it’s not always as simple as it sounds to live according to the seasons. The hesitant pigeons you mention remind me of my dog. Not really a dumb loyal thing like I would hope, but mirrors my moods and instead of cuddling when I cry, goes to another room.


  3. Your haibun is right on the mark with no ko me…not only does it mean tree buds but things that are waiting, pending. I love the Japanese concepts of seasons and the words that describe them. “I must learn to wait”…so very true!


  4. Of course it fits the prompt because of the way it reflects the waiting aspect of bud, the unfulfillment of the hope. It’s not quite spring and your poem reflects that so well. Thanks, Carol. I always like to see you here.


  5. You dealt with your unbudding situation exceptionally well. I like how you used budding within the pond metaphor and that you explored the seasons inside your home.


  6. Oh my, I know that feeling. Felt that way last week when I was deep in snow. I’m feeling more spring-like this week. Fingers crossed that the weather’s turning.


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