May 2019 – Iron Haiku

falling dogwood blooms-
little bird tell me why you’ve
abandoned your nest
–
morning drizzle-
a robin guards
her empty nest

shards of broken glass
strewn deeply across my path
yet still I walk on
–
moonlit surf-
hatchling turtles
dash for the sea

a hot acrid wind
rattles the sand blasted bones
hanging from the trees
–
cool lemonade-
wind chimes ring
on the front porch

moving through aspic
living just outside of time
tired and alone
–
persistent rain-
a raven just
beyond the glass

it’s far too simple-
these old men send the sons of
others to their deaths
–
a spring breeze-
the fog of war
swept out to sea

a wine glass empty
save for the mark your lips made
when kissing the rim
–
thick woolen socks-
a spark jumps
between our lips

a sudden cloudburst-
the rain soaking my shoes as
I run for cover
–
hazy sunshine-
sidewalks steaming
from the passing rain

wind rustles the leaves
and coaxes a dryad’s song
of spring from the trees
–
whispers-
forest giants
shake off the cold

wolves of stone and snow
insubstantial in the light
of the forest moon
–
rising embers-
mournful howling
in the distance

a soul deeply flawed
ichorous and fetid cast
from a broken mold
–
bathing rituals-
filing ewers by
the riverbanks