Breath – Page 9 – Iron Haiku

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

through the forest glen
long ribbons of water flow
over time worn stones
–
white water-
children’s laughter
in the froth

the bathroom door locked –
water covers the threshold
soaking the carpet
–
echos in the hallway-
your phone goes
straight to voice mail

one thing is certain-
with the taxes completed
l just wait for death
–
lights dim-
a life’s debt
repaid

dark basement staircase-
the heady scent of baked bread
wafts down from above
–
golden light-
brown buttered toast
and black coffee

passing the graveyard-
a pale white lady rises
from tendrils of fog
–
solemn silence-
hands clasped
in a circle

that thousand yard stare-
a private and the sergeant
standing toe to toe
–
noonday sun-
new recruit’s hair
litters the floor

wind at the windows-
as I move to tend the fire
the cat takes my seat
–
late winter morn-
my calico sleeps
in a patch of sun

great sheets of lake ice
cracked and heaving in the sun
as they come onshore
–
a cold night-
the ice in your drink
begins to melt

clutching thoughts and prayers
while we let those who suffer
slip through our fingers
–
predawn chill-
sleeping children
suddenly fatherless