Winter Scent

I’m sitting on my bed. The terracotta stove begins to warm up. It is the first winter fire in my house. A small black spider jumps into the iron poker. I am leaning on my back, my eyes follow the ceiling crevices. This might have been a heavy rain wound, its seared scars deepen year after year. On the floor a knife hides among apples in a whisker basket. Suddenly I am aware that I lay down between attic and cellar. I feel trapped, cloaked in the apples’ scent, drifting…

cellar stairs –
an autumn apple
falls back

Categories: My Poems in 2011 | Tags: , , | 2 Comments

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2 thoughts on “Winter Scent

  1. sandy

    I was lost in the description by the time I got to the haiku! So much in those words!

    • Thanks. I spent a part of my life in a small village (summer and winter vacations) and it was so beautiful there. My grandparents used to keep autumn apples in the cellar (basement) along the winter. Like this the fruits were always fresh and sweet. I loved the garden there and even now the old apple tree and the old pear tree are still there and still blooming.

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