August 2016 – Iron Haiku

impatient lemmings
craggy rocks block their passage
to the sea below
–
spring rains
a beaver dam
overflowing

lips brushing her neck
the whisper of her shoulder
just touching my cheek
–
caught standing
in your warm
footprints

deck lights turning on
unexpected visitor’s
nose against the glass
–
rising smoke
camp fire
embers

slow rhythmic moonlight
shining across the surface
of a mountain lake
–
an old rope swings
calm lake water
before the fall

white sprays of sea foam
torn loose from the crashing waves
aloft in the wind
–
open ocean
gulls soaring
into the wind

light plays on the walls
alternating blue and red
the sirens, silent
–
puddles in the street
turning to steam
in the sun

the sky burns crimson
in anticipation of
the ocean’s embrace
–
dawn chorus
an homage to
the rising sun

I can’t remember
dwelling in darkness since I
came into your light
–
barren trees
stand vigil
awaiting sunrise

broad wings outstretched
running across the water
before taking flight
–
rustling leaves
wind mulling over
a goose’s wing

across the table
the chasm between us grows
wider day by day
–
a sudden stampede
of white horses
August rains