Haiku

Is this love shallow?

The sparkling summer brook,

or deep rooted tree?

Tanka

Is this love shallow?

Does it reflect the summer

brook, or weathered tree?

An ephemeral sparkle,

or rooted and patient growth?

Limerick

I ask myself is my love vain?

My time wasted would be a shame.

A sparkling brook,

Or great tree unshook?

To choose poorly would be a shame.

English Sonnet

Semblance of love manifests in two forms;

Close neighbors in soft breeze of summer.

Mighty tree weathered from forgotten storms;

Crisscrossing roots like pipework from plumber.

Also nearby, churns sparkling brook.

Dancing and shim’ring in bright golden sun.

The denizen shade tree above forsook,

Preferring caprice to let its course run.

Which love is proper to seek in my life?

Sparkling brook of temporal passion,

Or the birch strengthened by time and deep strife,

Yet earned and active—filled with compassion?

Only one lasts, after summer is dead.

Both have a place, but by the birch I’m led.

All the frozen wrath of nature has manifested in the dense mist saturating the air. The thick, frigid fog is the manifestation of solitude, turbulent soul, and silence. The silence. Such a mass should seem to make a sound, but there is none. The white particles are unmoved for lack of wind. Despite the terrible and awesome sight, there is a pleasure in the piercing cold of the blanketing monolith. Each nerve is prickled by the fine drops suspended perfectly on the autumn night. An ineffable surge of ethereal glee sweeps over the viewer. Being engulfed by the haze of frost is strangely comforting. Even breath does not keep its course much further past expulsion, as it joins the indistinguishable spray fixed upon the night air.