Chance – Page 47 – Iron Haiku

as it carves an arc
the scythe knows not of the grass
or cares of its fate
–
autumn wind
swirling oak leaves
carried aloft

patiently waiting
the river of time seems to
slow to a trickle
–
mayflies
in the pond
a snapping turtle

a kestrel soaring
circling on warm updrafts
focused on its prey
–
wings swept
plummeting
earthward

spying Earth from space
a hard reminder of our
insignificance
–
a sand grain
amidst the
multitude

concentric ripples
spreading across the surface
of a misty lake
–
lakeshore
a striped bass
breaks the surface

faintly glowing stars
the ancient light a missive
from the distant past
–
a moonless night
our path defined
by starlight

blinded by hatred
enrobed in the ignorance
of what love can be
–
midnight-
groping for
the light

what makes one man think
he can be judge, jury, and
executioner
–
monsters
in the closet
only a mirror

after a brief rest
a bevy of mourning doves
suddenly takes flight
–
released
upon wings
across the sun
dedicated to Philip Rigney

unkempt and homeless
in need of a shower and
a touch of kindness
–
pray that fate
doesn’t bring you
to my level