Above – Page 16 – Iron Haiku

midwinter moonlight-
hushed stillness split by the cries
of mother and child
–
nesting jays-
the silence of
broken eggshells

an old church graveyard
dogwood petals salt the ground
o’er the waiting dead
–
grey rain-
tumbled stones
on hallowed ground

across an open lea
a small fox bounding over
sprays of wildflowers
–
rolling green hills-
freckles of
snapdragons

freshly brewed coffee-
the morning sky hidden by
pebbled leather clouds
–
warm blankets-
coyotes chatter
before sunrise

a line of turtles
asleep on a fallen log
as I float on by
–
flat water-
silently
making waves

clearing the tables-
the bartender stacks the chairs
yet we’re still talking
–
lost in your eyes-
waiting to speak
two simple words

butterflies flutter-
goldenrod grows along side
lines of split rail fence
–
the feed wagon-
cattle gather
along the fences

a dank feeble breeze-
the rumble of the el train
passing my window
–
distant sirens-
my room awash
in a neon glow

walking from the train
a soft rain begins to wash
off the day’s burdens
–
eyes closed-
rocked to sleep
among strangers

sedona night skies-
a desert scorpion crawls
across my bedroll
–
campfire-
embers rise to greet
the desert stars