winter haiku in 5/7/5 and 7/5/7...

...In an SMS conversation...

DI - 25 Nov. (10:12:05)
Pilaspe Haiku

Trombone in morning
sounds from an upper window
sa re ga ma pa
/ / /

RD - 25 Nov. (11:59:28)
Faridabad Haiku

Wrapped against the early dawn
I walk out of dreams
in a winter scented morn
/ / /

DI (11:59:28)

Maharashtran sun
burns in November's late morn
southern edge of north
/ / /

RD (time not noted)

Northern sun caresses one
tempts one to laughter
and flowering in the winter
/ / /

DI (11:40:39)
Thinking of your north
seems like more than happiness
in an unknown land
/ / /

RD (time not noted)
Summer Memory in Winter

Watermelon splits open
heart blood of summer
exquisitely murders heat
/ / /

DI (11:48:05)
Reply

In Panvel I've seen
great mounds of watermelons
now they speak to me
/ / /

RD
25 Nov (cont'd)

(19:16:47)

Traffic snarls on way to work
my day is half done
introspecting this winter


(19:20:12)

Fairy lights twinkle and mock
celebrating mundaneness
on this average winter eve


(19:22:49)

See myself in the rear view
am I closer now
or further from self this eve?


(19:25:19)

Please mute the traffic outside
much noise in my soul
winter calls up memories


(19:28:13)

SMSing bits of me
meaningless shared verse
to baffle the winter eve


(19:33:32)

Wearing lipstick by street light
in traffic rush hour
the Delhi season in swing


(23:59:43)

As I drink down the day's work
wonder where it went
in the early winter mist


26 November (Richa's cont'd)

(00:06:11)
Tea light gleams through whisky glass
flickers wide awake
in an alcoholic dream

(00:20:43)
Poesy dies in wnter night
season's cold shoulder
kills the warmth of treasured words

(00:43:06)
Candlelight induced haiku
outstrips the fair moon
in reality and life

(18:03:11)
The winter sun has gone to bed
crows circle far above
as it seduces the moon

[I take the "it" to be the sun(?) -d.i.]

(19:51:07)
Potholes fill up with winter
streetlights warm the road
but miss my heart completely


RD 27 November

(10:07:05)
Watery sun through my chai
dust motes hibernate
till it's time to come alive

(10:09:53)
The sliding door sticks again
reluctant to let
November into the house


(10:16:06)
The orange tabby stretches
glares at the bland sun
but it is only wooden

(13:36:31)
Sunlight filters through window
Raag Yaman stretches
as my bow draws out the Ni

(15:49:28)
Thirty thousand marriages
Delhi celebrates
the dawn of winter tonight