I know you should be blue — my winter moon. You should lend your sheen to snow; you should reflect yourself in ice and not in water. Winter should be cold. Not like this. From the west the rain rolls in, and you my moon can only veil yourself shame, in fog and cloud. Winter merges with autumn into yet another dark November.

I talked with you this morning, you are waning and your grin looks pale and sad. I can’t console you, moon, for your loss of ice and snow; I can only mourn with you and do my best. I bicycle to work.

naked in the rain
a discarded Christmas tree —
scent of rotting leaves

November by Koloman Moser

Viktoria hosts the first Haibun Monday at dVerse with a prompt on Fuyu No Tsuki, the winter moon and we shall come up with a nonfiction prose…