Chance – Page 29 – Iron Haiku

from a different life
the passing of an old friend
rests on my shoulders
–
moonrise-
a silver wind
sways the curtains

the black charred remnants
of forty years of marriage
smolder between us
–
a fallen tree-
reduced
to ash

boots in the water
my line slack on the surface
suddenly pulled taut
–
low morning light-
steam rises
off the lake

rooted to the ground
frozen, my mind replaying
one moment in time
–
blinding sun-
the city street
unnaturally quiet

breathless in the rain-
the greyhound bus pulls away
but you’re not on it
–
a cold rain-
my forehead
on the window

standing behind you
the center of attention
almost out of view
–
ill wind-
spiders repair
their broken webs

daydreaming with the
people in the windows of
oncoming traffic
–
pigeons-
walking through
an outdoor cafe

feeling impotent
my head full of words but I’m
unable to speak
–
snow fall-
staring out my
hospital window

champagne glass in hand-
ignoring the obvious
we toast our future
–
midnight sun-
a polar bear prowls
the city streets

another phone call-
your tired face deeply etched
with dissapointment
–
drifting snow-
fox prints near
an empty hutch