January morning;
Yellow leaves still falling
On the frosty grass.
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d. f. tweney
d. f. tweney is the founder and publisher of tinywords.com. A writer, editor, journalist, and listener poet, he lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with his family. He tries to write haiku every day, but he doesn't always succeed.
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“January morning;
Yellow leaves still falling
On the frosty grass.”
when i begin by restating the piece, usually, i am at a lost.
i, then, proceed to read the different lines, out of their original ranking; here is no exception, let’s start with the last line, it seems easiest to me.
“On the frosty grass.”
from my comprehension, i toyed with “on the frosted grass”, why, it seems more descriptive than “frosty grass”, and it reads easier. sampling it again, i pondered it’s relationship to (frosty root beer), or better yet, (frosty the snowman).
frosty: freezing; very cold; consisted of or (covered with frost), this meaning had possibilities, why not say frosted, (resembling frost), white or grey, as the hair; then, i read the listed meanings for frosted.
(i was taught, you never use the word, nor form of the word, in it’s definition) oh well
frosted: covered with frost ; iced, as cake; quick-frozen, as applied to food, nope nope; possibly the first meaning.
then, i was lead to “frost”; hmmm, a covering of minute ice needles, as formed from the atmosphere at night, and appearing on the ground and other exposed objects(grass, hmmm) when they have cooled by radiation below the freezing point.
(slang) a failure, a coolness between persons; is there a pun here; on this note, i return to my thoughts before continuing.
thinking, this was going to be easy, particularly the third line; can tomorrow (not)come soon enough…
“tomorrow, having become today, is almost gone”; me
i slept on this; awakening, feeling i’d lost ground; something came to mind, which caused me to ask, what is it about “frosty grass” that readily comes to mind
when i was much younger, i recall going out to play, on those cold winter mornings, when all was frozen to a crisp
walking on the frosted grass, there was this crunch sound, with each step taken. i remember thinking, how fragile the frozen grass appeared, or was it, simply, the sound made by the ice particles, being shattered
in life, there is this fragile appearance, we, inadvertently, attach to things; and yet, comes another day, we see, there was no real harm done; the resiliency we overlooked, because at the moment, we could not see the flexibility, in anything so brittle
in looking over my years, i think of the broken heart, and how, each time it healed, and i continued to live…
being january, i’m thinking, why wouldn’t the leaves be yellow, or a shade close to brown; i ponder why not present the nature of the leaves, being cracked, brittle, translucent, the way they land on the ground, or even the manner in which they float, or even the remanent left on the tree
unless, of course, your living in the tropics or sub-tropic would preclude this conclusion, where leaves are green, nearly year-round.
pronouncing the leaves as being “yellow” seems a little redundant, with the idea being establish, winter is upon us. there are times when colors heighten the experience, but here, i don’t feel the need to; if one is experiencing the moment, then assuredly, the leaves are thought of as being dead. after having said all the above, what does the “Yellow leaves still falling” signify.
being january, i’m thinking, why wouldn’t the leaves be yellow, or a shade close to brown; i ponder why not present the nature of the leaves, being cracked, brittle, translucent, the way they land on the ground, or even the manner in which they float, or even the remanent left on the tree
unless, of course, your living in the tropics or sub-tropic would preclude this conclusion, where leaves are green, nearly year-round.
pronouncing the leaves as being “yellow” seems a little redundant, with the idea being establish, winter is upon us. there are times when colors heighten the experience, but here, i don’t feel the need to; if one is experiencing the moment, then assuredly, the leaves are thought of as being dead. after having said all the above, what does the “Yellow leaves still falling” signify.
letting go of line 2, i began to see something, whether or not it was dft’s intention.
when the tree should have been bare, or when one is stripped of all, one was thought to have been possessing, even one’s life, one still has more to (sacrifice). “sacrifice”, a word i feel we all have used over the course of time, but, we are not aware of what it’s deepest meaning represents.
the surrender or destruction of something prized or desirable for the sake of something considered as having a higher or more pressing claim; to me, a sacrifice at it’s highest, is the giving of one’s self.
even in what we think is the end, death, there’s even more of ourselves to give.
in closing on the second line, i am reminded of something i heard concerning life.
“life is but a dream”
and in saying this, i am sure i have left some even the more confused.
i am truly amazed, how at one time, in reading this first line, i couldn’t get it to go anywhere for me. i guess what is said about hindsight, still holds true.
after all i have said, to this point, in reading “january morning”, i see(in my opinion) what’s being said, or a deeper meaning than just a morning in january.
a new beginning, though in most places a cold time, it is a new beginning never the less, for all things at times seems clearer, comes the morning; it has almost a sterilizing affect
yes, there are a few remanents of the past, as some things hang on or try to hang on, long past their life expectancy.
then, we have this new beginning, when all the old, stands naked and bare, in readiness of the approaching spring…
“January morning;
Yellow leaves still falling
On the frosty grass.”
when i begin by restating the piece, usually, i am at a lost.
i, then, proceed to read the different lines, out of their original ranking; here is no exception, let’s start with the last line, it seems easiest to me.
“On the frosty grass.”
from my comprehension, i toyed with “on the frosted grass”, why, it seems more descriptive than “frosty grass”, and it reads easier. sampling it again, i pondered it’s relationship to (frosty root beer), or better yet, (frosty the snowman).
mas…
i, even, went to a borrowed dictionary.
frosty: freezing; very cold; consisted of or (covered with frost), this meaning had possibilities, why not say frosted, (resembling frost), white or grey, as the hair; then, i read the listed meanings for frosted.
(i was taught, you never use the word, nor form of the word, in it’s definition) oh well
frosted: covered with frost ; iced, as cake; quick-frozen, as applied to food, nope nope; possibly the first meaning.
then, i was lead to “frost”; hmmm, a covering of minute ice needles, as formed from the atmosphere at night, and appearing on the ground and other exposed objects(grass, hmmm) when they have cooled by radiation below the freezing point.
(slang) a failure, a coolness between persons; is there a pun here; on this note, i return to my thoughts before continuing.
thinking, this was going to be easy, particularly the third line; can tomorrow (not)come soon enough…
“tomorrow, having become today, is almost gone”; me
i slept on this; awakening, feeling i’d lost ground; something came to mind, which caused me to ask, what is it about “frosty grass” that readily comes to mind
when i was much younger, i recall going out to play, on those cold winter mornings, when all was frozen to a crisp
walking on the frosted grass, there was this crunch sound, with each step taken. i remember thinking, how fragile the frozen grass appeared, or was it, simply, the sound made by the ice particles, being shattered
in life, there is this fragile appearance, we, inadvertently, attach to things; and yet, comes another day, we see, there was no real harm done; the resiliency we overlooked, because at the moment, we could not see the flexibility, in anything so brittle
in looking over my years, i think of the broken heart, and how, each time it healed, and i continued to live…
tomorrow, l1 & l2
l2…
where was i, after (the) minor distraction.
“Yellow leaves still falling”
being january, i’m thinking, why wouldn’t the leaves be yellow, or a shade close to brown; i ponder why not present the nature of the leaves, being cracked, brittle, translucent, the way they land on the ground, or even the manner in which they float, or even the remanent left on the tree
unless, of course, your living in the tropics or sub-tropic would preclude this conclusion, where leaves are green, nearly year-round.
pronouncing the leaves as being “yellow” seems a little redundant, with the idea being establish, winter is upon us. there are times when colors heighten the experience, but here, i don’t feel the need to; if one is experiencing the moment, then assuredly, the leaves are thought of as being dead. after having said all the above, what does the “Yellow leaves still falling” signify.
tomorrow…
l2…
where was i, after (the) minor distraction.
“Yellow leaves still falling”
being january, i’m thinking, why wouldn’t the leaves be yellow, or a shade close to brown; i ponder why not present the nature of the leaves, being cracked, brittle, translucent, the way they land on the ground, or even the manner in which they float, or even the remanent left on the tree
unless, of course, your living in the tropics or sub-tropic would preclude this conclusion, where leaves are green, nearly year-round.
pronouncing the leaves as being “yellow” seems a little redundant, with the idea being establish, winter is upon us. there are times when colors heighten the experience, but here, i don’t feel the need to; if one is experiencing the moment, then assuredly, the leaves are thought of as being dead. after having said all the above, what does the “Yellow leaves still falling” signify.
tomorrow…
“Yellow leaves still falling”
letting go of line 2, i began to see something, whether or not it was dft’s intention.
when the tree should have been bare, or when one is stripped of all, one was thought to have been possessing, even one’s life, one still has more to (sacrifice). “sacrifice”, a word i feel we all have used over the course of time, but, we are not aware of what it’s deepest meaning represents.
the surrender or destruction of something prized or desirable for the sake of something considered as having a higher or more pressing claim; to me, a sacrifice at it’s highest, is the giving of one’s self.
even in what we think is the end, death, there’s even more of ourselves to give.
in closing on the second line, i am reminded of something i heard concerning life.
“life is but a dream”
and in saying this, i am sure i have left some even the more confused.
l1, come tomorrow…
i am truly amazed, how at one time, in reading this first line, i couldn’t get it to go anywhere for me. i guess what is said about hindsight, still holds true.
after all i have said, to this point, in reading “january morning”, i see(in my opinion) what’s being said, or a deeper meaning than just a morning in january.
a new beginning, though in most places a cold time, it is a new beginning never the less, for all things at times seems clearer, comes the morning; it has almost a sterilizing affect
yes, there are a few remanents of the past, as some things hang on or try to hang on, long past their life expectancy.
then, we have this new beginning, when all the old, stands naked and bare, in readiness of the approaching spring…
indeed, necessary for this new beginning
cockerel farm
newborn mice
under a wooden plank
reading my first response, finding myself laughing; did i say all that
i wondered why dft limited us to 250 characters
j/k
a change in seasons; sigh
–
spring afternoon
open patio door …
rushing in, tropical breeze
–
david coomler is a small minded zealot.
stalled morning commute–
on the asphalt
slain poinciana blossom