Age – Page 4 – Iron Haiku

unearthed by the wind-
stone sentinels laid low by
the passage of time
–
dew kissed moss-
a small stone shrine
unvisited

ghost of old rumors-
morbid curiosity
about the house on the hill
–
a one eyed crow-
tortured shrieks of
wrought iron hinges

under a shade elm
I leave a small stone marking
the site of my grave
–
cut white lilies-
so casually
discarded

a cold night’s work done-
the creeping light of daybreak
seeps into my tomb
–
guttering torchlight-
weary of the death
that slakes my thirst

milkweed in the wind-
beside the ancient live oak
I bury our bones
–
a lonesome gong-
pale wisps of trees
fade in the mist

the dawning solstice-
children of the earth and sky
taste the rising sun
–
pheasant’s eyes-
ghosts of stone men
herald the sun

an old farmers sink-
her mind miles away from the
blood in the carpet
–
back garden soil-
no amount of soap
makes her feel clean

under summer stars-
in the fading moonlight she
could almost be you
–
iron skies-
across the piazza
you become the crowd

vultures overhead-
circling waiting before
feasting on the dead
–
red skies-
a tempest
at our door

shadows of small flags-
with a bouquet of flowers
she runs to your grave
–
mourning doves-
the young man
on the mantle