Francis Masat: Haibun
My near-frozen breath rises above me. I scratch a small circle in the frost on my bedroom window, look out at the snow that has flocked our neighbor's trees. Even inside there is the smell of cold fresh snow.
our first storm together
Sunlight gleams through cracks in the weathered clapboard siding. Thoughts of chores and skiing. I slide out from the warmth of covers, pull on stiff, icy clothes, open the door to a glistening white yard.
of sweet hay -
Amidst the rising sounds of wind, we set out cakes, a teapot with steam rising from the spout. The mug's warmth flows into my hands.
sixty-fifth birthday -
Raised and educated in the Midwest, Francis Masat moved to Key West, Florida, after 35 years as a university professor in the Midwest and New Jersey. He now enjoys living, volunteering, and writing in a tropical setting.
His older work appears in Avant, Instructor, Liberal Education, Mathematics Magazine, Pony Tracks and Buffalo Trails, and The Pentagon.
Recent work, which reflects his Midwest roots, some new directions, and the tropics, has been accepted by Amaze, Artistry in Poetry, bottle rockets, Frog Pond, Haiku Harvest, Haiku Spirit, Heron's Nest, Illinois Times, Life in Alaska, Lynx, Mayfly, Modern Haiku, Muse, Apprentice Guild, Paper Wasp, Poetry Midwest, Prairie Poetry, Short Stuff, Solares Hill, Tiny Words, and others.