Age – Page 20 – Iron Haiku

the scent of your hair
lingering on my pillow
greets me with the dawn
–
daybreak-
my arm draped around
your missing waist

trash cans at the curb
the stars at my back as I
walk back up the drive
–
upended bins-
a bandit masked
in the moonlight

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

northern white cedars-
the cliff face of ragged stone
falling to the sea
–
out of the fog-
a grand tower
of sun bleached stone

off the mountain road
a wake of buzzards gather
‘round a fallen deer
–
moonrise-
the fawn waits
in the tall grass

puppets to a one-
dancing to unheard music
hung from tangled threads
–
skeletal fingers-
pulling taut
the threads of fate

on a twisted branch
outside my window a crow
in the black of night
–
india ink-
an ebony feather
is my quill

around my ankle
an invisible red thread
that binds me to you
–
a cardinal-
in the holly his mate
awaits his return

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