A very short poem sometimes called a lune for you.

when the snow tails off a bit and the wind dies down.

Rather than viewing the form as limiting, I find the distillation process to broaden my way of experiencing the world.

moon shimmers

the light is still there

though shadowed

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It's much harder than I thought to write a lune. Too many thoughts, not enough syllables or lines.

Keep it up, sensei, and you'll be thinking them with little or no effort.

and send me to google.

Wonder what that would be called?

sunflower

now dried out and black

birdfeeder

for awhile.

brief cloud gaps

shadows are reborn

glare off snow