Winter Haiku

Sun rays pass through trees
Barren bushes warmed,twitching
Flocks of sparrows hidden

Snow a’skift on branches
Red berries frozen to ash limbs
Cedar waxwings feast

Brown-bodied squirrels
Scurry up poplars to nest
Safe from eagle talons

Atop a bat box
Heron eyes the pond below
Fish scales shimmering

Plowing through shallows
A cutthroat’s dorsal fin swirls
Hours from death’s embrace

Sliding up wet banks
Swifting back into water
Wet mink fur silvers

Crawfish nestle in mud
Huddles of legs and claws
Waking at sunset

Margaret Koger

Margaret Koger lives in Boise, Idaho and received her M. A. from Boise State University. Before retirement, she taught in the public schools where she specialized in creative writing and library services with a brief stint as an Artist in the Schools. Her poetry appears in numerous journals including Collective Unrest, Thimble, Inez, Headway, Burning House, Voice of Eve, Tiny Seeds Literary Journal, Forbidden Peak, Déraciné and Gravitas.