August 2017 – Iron Haiku

my temper flares up
in the heat of the moment
yet I’m the one burned
–
desert sun-
my ego buried
in the sand

a glass dragonfly
darts through the air and alights
on my upturned palm
–
low winter sun-
stained glass
painting the wall

a murder of crows
as one silently take wing
into the august sky
–
turning winds-
a crow flies
before the sun

hoping against hope
to stem the incoming tide
and still it rises
–
august-
forsaken
by the sun

keeping company
with all my bad decisions
and indiscretions
–
fresh snow-
still here
at last call

ashes in the air
embers of glowing orange
peering through the flames
–
quiet laughter-
coals dying
in the night

thick solemn silence
dozens of flag draped coffins
lining the tarmac
–
echoes of summer-
shell casings
in a folded flag

cut from the same cloth
the two of us holding fast
lest it unravel
–
sheep shearing-
lost in thought
or so it seems

robins flying south
I’m left stranded alone with
my desperation
–
evening dew-
california poppies
closed for the night

the arc of the sky-
uncountable stars over
an ocean of sand
–
a blanket of stars-
hand on the tiller
slave to the wind