Snow day and dishwashing haiku

Just as the deep snow here had melted to half-gone and I’d broken usable trails through the month-old snowpack remaining, a new storm blew in, dropped another five or six inches, and undid my hope for a winter thaw.  Two more storms over the next three days are expected to fluff things up even more.  While I work up the energy to go out and re-break trails—for myself and for animals, on whom this unnaturally long winter has been very stressful—I thought I’d try something different at WIZ to pass time.

Traditionally, haiku express insight into the movement of a season across the face of a landscape.  But since the form is of a meditative mind, its nature can be stretched to explore particulars of a variety of conditions.  In a recent conversation with greenfrog, topics of awareness and dishwashing flowed together.  The prospect of dishwashing haiku arose.  Well … and why not?

So for WIZ’s next winter while-away open invitation, the name is dishwashing (which I happen to find especially pleasant in wintertime); the game is haiku.

To begin:

Warm tap water, cool
Winter light pouring in streak
Plates in kitchen sync.

Let the One-liners begin.

18 thoughts on “Snow day and dishwashing haiku”

  1. Clatter dish away to towel soft turn of cloth

    I never tried a one liner before. Did I get it right?

    Steam on the windows
    fingers draw a smile down low
    small child sees, smiles back.

  2. Roses are red
    Dishwater green
    Haiku is quirky
    So I uses a dishwasher and
    iambic pentameter, both poorly.

  3. Lora, “One-liner” is a pun. Haiku can be “one-liners” in the sense they can be they can single sentences, whole. But they can also be meditative pieces on the nature of “One-ness.” Another of my obscure jokes, apparently.

    But I like both your smiling haiku and your One-liner.

    Marie, I think you wrote the Anti-Haiku! Contrast is good.

    greenfrog, sharp as always.

  4. We still have about 20 inches of snow on the ground. Nowhere to go but into the sink.

    In bubbles’ clear walls
    Glint minute kitchen windows
    With pink and green panes.

  5. You folks are reminding me of how I would tip the detergent bottle upside down then right side up, and then squeeze it hard. Bubbles would come out by the dozens, floating all around that side of the kitchen. The kids LOVED my magic.

  6. @greenfrog: *giggle*

    Sounds like it might be time for you to fix the faucet. How-to hint: it shouldn’t require dismantling cabinetry.

    And stop making me laugh! I’m trying to notice things, you know? Serious business, noticing. (Stifled guffaw)

    Outside pump pulls loose
    Strands of well water into
    Plaits that hands undo.

    Top that.

  7. Still too much snow to go out venturing, but we seem to be entering a thaw. Finally! (jig of joy)

    By cup-and-bowlfuls,
    on knives’ blades, dishwashing moves
    light across the sink.

  8. Sorry to break up the banter with a less refined perspective, but a little poetry once in a while is good for even a soul like mine. I’m not sure if this more is about the dishes or the snow:

    Pile is high again.
    Hard to start, but once begun:
    Strangely relaxing

  9. Hi Adam! Glad to see you here.

    I like your merging of snow and dishwashing. A good haiku. Thanks for adding a link to the chain.

    Hot suds loosen stuck
    Crumbs, snags of dishes, the day’s
    Knots tied in the hands.

    After nearly two months, we’re finally beginning to see a few patches of bare ground, mostly around the bases of trees.

  10. Despite recently seeing my first strand of Canadian geese fly loose overhead, winter clings to my mind. Two days ago, I watched yet another series of snow squalls roll toward us and snow–again–blur the long view.

    Skies, dishwater grey;
    Cold, white froths curl down; the done
    Season drains southward.

    After this thread, I fear winter will ever be linked in my thinking to dishwashing.

    Is that a bad thing?

  11. Can dishwork include odd gardening implements waiting for warmer weather on the patio?

    Flakes fall straight, cast a
    Shadow of snowshine beneath
    A empty pot’s rim.

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