False Winter
A Haibun that may or not be about the seasons
deep-winter silence
covers the real storm in me
and I blame the snow
All winter I let the season answer for me. Too dark, too far, roads a mess, easier than saying I couldn’t get myself off the couch. Friends believed the snowstorms; I almost did, too. Now the banks are shrinking and the excuses with them. I’m still slow, still carrying that heavy, invisible coat, but when I drag one bag of garbage to the curb and come back in, there’s melt on the mat and a thin strip of light under the door that wasn’t there before.
early spring evening
the street still half ice, half mud
door cracked just a bit
About the Creator
Patrick Gadoury
I'm an author and publisher of poem anthology group from northern Ontario, I like enabling other voices and new writers. I'm also a novel writer, known for the indie darling Noetic Gravity that came out in June 2025. Here I write for me.
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