Color – Page 7 – Iron Haiku

leafless and barren
bowed trees pledge their fealty
to the harsh north wind
–
november eve-
silver wind in
empty trees

an old masters hand-
long unused sable brushes
come back to life
–
hazy morning-
blobs of white
dot the hillside

black ink on paper-
oblivious passengers
riding the subway
–
a soft gong-
the model changes
position again

an incoming storm-
thunderclouds vent their anger
on an iron sea
–
hard driving rain-
waves break against
barnacled pilings

silvery fingers-
the moon I plucked from the sky
safe in my pocket
–
crescent moon-
silver fish swim
among the stars

curling ocean waves-
the blackbird’s white feathered wings
touch an azure sky
–
glass dipped in frost-
a magpie taps
at my window

a stinging backhand-
the first truly cold fall day
greets me with malice
–
grey exhaust-
white plumes
of breath