Daily Haiku Collection #1

A lonely park bench
Sits atop the snowy hill
Bathed in lamplight

Such a dreary day
But perhaps a joyous night
Guess that's how it goes.

Warm and fragrant rice
The cool touch of the fresh fish
His soul, presented

Sitting on the bench
Breath, condensing into fog
The snow falls, she waits

Cold wind, icy rain
Slashing the man's huddled form
The fire is waiting

The stellar canvas
Above the field where we lie
Who could ask for more?

Scattered papers, pens
Fragments of a thousand thoughts
I should clean my desk

The press of bodies
Exiting the train, I breath
Embraced by the rain