The first time I read ‘bare branches’ I was humbled by how Peggy sculpts her words. Not one out of place. Not one does not belong. Not one fails to serve to hold this one together structurally and otherwise. While am I more than sure that she would not accept that idea that this is ‘minimalist’ haiku, in much the same way Raymond Carver did regarding the bulk of his work, it does have that feel about it. And that is no knock at all against the approach. Take any one word from this and its poignancy is lost. As other commenters have noted the clearest and, excuse the pun, barefaced, associations that may be made in ‘bare branches’, I’d like to offer at least one alternative reading that sees the selection of that blue silk layer as a subtle act of defiance. How so? In this reading the poet is stubborn in the sense that she doesn’t reach for a winter garment (bare branches=winter kigo), a cotton sweater, a lazy robe,etc…

Don’t let me lose you here. Imagine a woman standing in her almost nakedness before her wardrobe. She glances off out the window. Bare trees, perhaps a whistling wind or snow. She ponders the scene and says to herself, “No, not this time” as she pulls from herself a strength, perhaps a curiosity, that defies the dictates of winter and all that says be glum. Assuming Peggy isn’t one for going gentle into that not-so-good day (She sees the trees. It can’t be night. Could be it around 4:30 p.m?) in her silk apparel, she’s staying in. Was there somewhere she was heading when she made that choice of garments? Perhaps. But she’s staying put. Has she a colorful pallet of silk garments to choose from? Only she can say. She chose blue. All sensual assumptions aside, and this is as ‘fleshly’ a haiku of taste that we’ll see, that she chooses a layer of silk that is blue, not as voluptuous and inviting as say, a red or black layer of silk, tells me that she’ll not be enjoying her lover’s company, but I imagine her somewhat settled in her thoughts for the evening to come. This is as exquisite, provocative, suggestive, and downright pretty, as haiku gets. A classic.

— Peggy Willis Lyles

there are no surprises here, since to me Peggy in my opinion, if not the best,
is one of best English language haiku poets of the 20th century:

If we think about poetry, its roots, throughout history, it has always been an
genre: lyrical, a story, a song, a psalm, an event, etc., orally, and what better
way to open up a line of a haiku with the “r” sounds of “bare,” and “branches.”
Even a man can feel barron, the emptiness, remorse, and so on, that death,
even within our seasons, such as autumn, can make one feel.

[When, Elizabeth Searle Lamb passed away, Marian Olson sent me a note,
and in sothern New Jersey, there was a hard frost, and nothing moved, not
even the crows...]

Then, within line two, Penny adds a layer, even if this is only one, it still implies
warmth, as does the color of blue, even when silk may feel cool to one’s body
creating a mood, such as the color blue will.

Anyone still own a Mood Ring?

The sound of this poem is finely crafted as well, with the obvious alliteration of “bare branches…blue” along w. the subtler interlocking pattern of liquids (“r”s and “l”s) and the repetition of “ch” in “branches” and “choose”, binding together image and psychology. A tight composition in all respects.

It’s interesting to note that Peggy and the last featured “Viral” poet, Marlene Mountain, though very different stylistically, were both born in 1939. At least three other outstanding English-language women haiku poets were also born that yr: Caroline Gourlay, Marian Olson, and Ruth Yarrow. A truly remarkable group for just one revolution of the Earth–and 2009 is a good yr to celebrate them all.