Chance – Page 22 – Iron Haiku

in a basement bar
the windows dirty with time
drinking my coffee
–
sheets of rain-
a community
of strangers

reeds and rushes-
a warm tide ebbs from the marsh
and runs to the sea
–
sea glass-
walking the beach
at low tide

as my eyesight fades
I think I finally see
my destination
–
a grey heron-
motionless in the
standing water

staring at the floor
scuffed and worn beneath my seat
from those in my shoes
–
dawn breaks-
outside the
waiting room

now all that remains-
the sweet taste of success and
your cherry lip gloss
–
fresh cut grass-
an old blanket and
poetry

lying in my bed
beautiful and poisonous
twisted in the sheets
–
african sun-
death lurks
in the tall grass

all I have of you-
the crossword and a ring left
by your coffee cup
–
saplings-
rooted
in the shade

looking back in time
pictures of who we once were
under cellophane
–
rich brown soil-
an old green tin
a child’s treasure

she turns a shy smile-
a web of hairline cracks form
in his tough facade
–
cobwebs-
broken plaster
litters the floor

wide open prairies
the promise of a new life
in every acre
–
covered wagons-
homesteads built
on sacred land