May 2017 – Page 3 – Iron Haiku

my newborn daughter-
a woman after thousands
of past yesterdays
–
new spring-
a sapling
births a forest

the new morning star
betrothed to the coming dawn
dancing with the moon
–
warm spring sun-
a beaming bride
under a shower of rice

standing on the bridge
cold wind blowing through his coat
patiently waiting
–
a lover’s kiss-
the river opens
to greet the sea

along the roadside-
once a stately facade, now
a pile of old stones
–
gentle rain-
crows perch upon
a weathered grave

at the water’s edge
cattails and reeds bend leeward
softening the shore
–
the great salt marsh-
a blue heron wading
intently focused

staying up all night
just to fall asleep with you
and the breaking dawn
–
frogs in the trees-
rising woodsmoke
staining the sunset

take my outstretched hand
and let us walk together
across this threshold
–
distant mountain peaks-
over the dewey grass
the rising sun

it’s not who I am
this someone in the mirror
but who I became
–
a placid lake-
the moon’s watery
countenance

in the aftermath-
flowers left by the roadside
fading in the sun
–
stippled sunlight-
mushrooms growing
on fallen trees

a blanket of clouds
pulled up tight over my head
shutting out the day
–
morning song-
the reluctance
of wakefulness