Dawn – Page 8 – Iron Haiku

starting my journey-
leaving this city behind
for greener pastures
–
piles of stone-
a farmers wall
soon to be built

the bedroom window-
a midnight breeze eases past
the open curtains
–
april morning-
open windows
heavy blankets

a cool morning breeze-
silver waves ripple across
unmown fields of grass
–
gulls over the beach-
cattails bowed to
the rising sun

walking from the train
a soft rain begins to wash
off the day’s burdens
–
eyes closed-
rocked to sleep
among strangers

overnight snowfall
blankets the desert landscape
of sand and sagebrush
–
condors overhead-
remnants of snow
in cactus shadows

just before sunrise-
my tea steeps as a vixen
calls out to her kits
–
plumes of breath-
a young doe
hides her fawn

late afternoon breeze-
a cardinal feeds his mate
seeds from my garden
–
morning sunlight-
dogwood brides
dressed in white

the first spring sunrise-
a thin mist of winter clings
to the melting snow
–
daybreak-
a silver moon
over hoarfrost grass

rid of you at last
cut from where you’d gotten lodged
just under my skin
–
last year’s maple leaves-
splinters from a
prior life

fields of lavender-
if tomorrow never comes
at least we’ll have this
–
apricot sunrise-
hints of vanilla
on the breeze