Haiku

Early January was slow and dark, but wonderfully restorative for me.  When I shared that I was just hanging at home, napping, carbo-loading, watching cable, and avoiding occasions that required me to get out of my pj's, I was given many prescriptive suggestions for curing my friend-diagnosed SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder).  Drink coffee.  Don't drink coffee.  Nap.  Don't nap.  Try light therapy.  Do yoga.  Cry for one whole day. 

All well intended advice, but I was not looking for remedies because I was embracing my inertia.  I followed my body and mind where it wanted to go. Which was no where.  I did nothing.  Well, almost nothing.  I wrote Haiku.  Today . . . I began painting my Haiku.

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hai·ku (ˈhīˌko͞o)  

                      Japanese poem of seventeen syllables, in three lines of five, seven, five; employing highly evocative allusions and comparisons.

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January Offerings

We have been chasing

The dream of a perfect life

As if ours was not.

Only the wind knows

How to make the Earth rise up

To dance with the sky.

The Earth’s gravity

Is never too much, ever,

For the Moon to bear.

My soul is a magic lamp.

Genies disguised as poems

Appear when polished.

Depression, ennui,

acedia, feckless naps.

The dark days change me.