White chimney smoke hangs
frozen — mid-air hovering
held in blue stillness.
Morning glows behind black branches
holding my breath: iced, entranced.
poem by Jill Hasker
One morning recently — one of those really really cold ones — I walked outside toward the car to take my daughter to school.
I looked up toward the sunrise and stood quietly for a moment to contemplate what I saw.
I should back up a bit. We live in Wisconsin, so during most of the winter students go to school when it is still dark.
The sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon but was still behind the row of houses across the street. The bare branches were silhouetted against the soft colors dawning in the sky.
But the thing that caught my eye was this: the white smoke was hanging in puffy shapes above the chimneys. I looked at the several houses within my field of vision. The small clouds seemed inert, motionless, frozen.
I recently found out about #5lines on Twitter, and since then have been thinking about trying to write some poems in this form. Because I still have this vivid image in my mind several days later, I decided to give the frozen chimney cloud scene a whirl as a 5 line poem.