November Birthday

Who's this tortoise peering at me from the bathroom mirror? Heavy eyelids, a beaked nose, skin pouched along the jaws. Fading colors of the maples burn brighter against a gray drizzle. After Thanksgiving the streets are silent. We keep busy in separate rooms until dusk, when he appears in my doorway, offering a card.

ivy leaves
whirling away –
naked vines

From frosted crystal we toast another year of life. I blow out pink candles on a cinnamon bun. An instrument of silk and paulownia wood begins its ancient solo.

unfolding
the rice paper –
book of spring haiku

Ruth Holzer, Simply Haiku, 2:4, 2004.