I lean my warm cheek
to cold, empty pail. Tears break
silence as they spill.
My tears turn to ice;
the well echoes with tiny clinks:
but silent falls new snow.
Down dry, wintry well
I dropp my bucket. Thud! Splash!
Not empty: frozen.
Clicking on window panes,
sleet wakes me from dreams of snow
and you driving home.
Great job on this poem and you taught me something about adding more than one poem in a grouping. thanks for the read!
Beautiful jewel of a poem! Artfully constructed-the parallel stanzas (each one a sharp haiku image) work like a sparklling mirror of the speaker's feelings and the way Nature herself is felt to respond to her human needs. The work on contrasts-warmth against cold, silence against sound, emptiness against presence-is excellent. The last haiku-stanza is superbly suggestive of how uncertain 'reality' is so many times. As John keats writes at the end of 'Ode to a Nightingale'-'Do I wake or sleep? ' Thank you for the gift!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An instant favorite, vivid and moving. I love the perfect choice of words and the atmosphere so effectively conveyed throughout.