November haiku

Curled leaf hangs
from a barren twig-
a brown bat, sleeping.

At the bus stop,
my breath in white clouds
my nose a red cherry.

Black crow perches
on a bone white branch.
Watching.

Ruffled lichens,
like green ravioli,
bloom on wet stone.

Sun shines
through naked trees,
wintry patterns of light.

Extracting words,
I pluck butterflies
from a stream.

Violet hills at gloaming –
my shoulders shiver
bare branches rattle.

This is a revision of “Haiku from November,” originally published November 7, 2012.