Cold – Page 24 – Iron Haiku

draped across the yard
a patchwork of autumn leaves
quilted by the wind
–
november air-
bronzed oak leaves
litter the ground

down along the tracks-
in the distance the fog glows
with a passing train
–
a waiting owl-
the train echos
through the hollow

black leather collar
tight around my neck lying
prostrate at your feet
–
cold stone-
village pews
stand empty

cold morning sunlight-
fruit wood smoke gently rises
from the stone chimney
–
Not yet risen-
the scent of kona
from the kitchen

the telephone rings-
it seems you and I still have
unfinished business
–
woolen socks and
warm apple cider-
my phone in a drawer

just another day
thoughts and prayers for the dead while
no one does a thing
–
a quiet morning-
evil flourishes
in the silence

open before me
the pages of my journal
blank and foreboding
–
onshore winds-
sand and shells
in the roiling surf

the full predawn moon
resting above the changing
autumn canopy
–
evening chill-
the moon dressed
in alabaster

october morning-
even the sun seems to feel
like staying in bed
–
flannel sheets-
somewhere in the house
an open window

an autumn sunset-
the shadow of a goshawk
long on the meadow
–
oak leaves-
slipping below
a covered bridge