Age – Page 51 – Iron Haiku

in a dusty tin
a collection of the days
that lead me to you
–
withered leaves-
the memories of
an old diary

continuity-
ancient traditions upheld
for generations
–
lichens on stone-
the huron pine
adds another ring

the full moon unveiled
from behind translucent clouds
poised for summer’s kiss
–
an owl’s call-
the full moon
follows me home

a taste of freedom-
locked within a castle mount
above the meadows
–
afternoon heat-
careful hands
fitting stone

roaring bonfires burn-
shadows of ancient stones paint
the salisbury plain
–
waning daylight-
a crow stands guard
over those long dead

the late august sky-
from behind the thinning clouds
unfamiliar stars
–
the dead of night-
a pewter moon
rising

the time worn tombstones
children taken far too soon
their stories untold
–
a cardinal takes wing-
poppy blossoms
in the church yard

rolling scottish hills
flecked with distant spots of white
between far stone walls
–
waist high grass-
curious lambs
approach the gate

standing in a queue
at the end of my patience
quite unlike this line
–
wind blown sagebrush-
the road I’m on ends
at the horizon

in the overgrowth
well worn by the hands of time
forgotten tombstones
–
by the window
waiting, staring
at the falling snow