On Poetry and Culture Shock

November snapshots (I know we're in May)

It has looked as if it's just about to start to rain for three days now, and it's cold. I put this haiku cycle together about two months ago, and I'm still doubting whether to call it "Come in from the Cold" or "November Snapshots".

For those of you that like the creative-process-is-it-autobiographical bit, I composed the first poem more than a year ago when I was locked out of a little mountain refuge very early in the morning, when my friends were indeed still asleep. The third one I wrote very soon afterwards,but in a very urban setting, after a long, long struggle with the Pink Floyd line. The little boy and girl in the second poem are my brother and I, age 8 and 6; that, and the Elegy to a Fritatta, are my only poems to date inspired or about my brother (I'll post the Elegy sometime soon). The last one is the most recent one: I wrote it in late November 2004. In February 2003, I spent a week in Limerick, Ireland, with two of my best friends who were living there. I loved the look and feel of frosty grass and I remembered it with nostalgia until I went back to live in a cold climate, this school year. Like all my weather poems it has a bit of Alan Spence in it.

Alone, out at dawn.
The icy wind wraps me up
While my friends sleep.
Salgo sola, al amanecer.
El viento gélido me envuelve
Mientras mis amigos duermen.

Two fiery dragons:
Boy and girl in raincoats,
Their breath of steam.
Dos feroces dragones:
Un niño y una niña con impermeables,
Su aliento de vapor.

Leaf clings to the tree,
Chill autumn.
“Don’t give in without a fight” (Pink Floyd)
Una hoja se aferra a la rama.
Otoño helado.
“No te rindas sin oponer resistencia”.

Glittery with frost
The grass puts on a costume:
a late Halloween.
Con purpurina de escarcha
la hierba se disfraza:
Un Halloween tardío.

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