Evening – Page 26 – Iron Haiku

awake at first light
realizing far too late
I’m not who I thought
–
venus rising-
difficult memories
consigned to the fire

visiting the well
my wooden bucket dipping
deep in the moonlight
–
alongside the lake-
the harvest moon
follows me home

a torn cap worn low
collar turned against the wind
shrouded in darkness
–
a squalid doorway-
scant shelter from
the bitter cold

air laced with woodsmoke
thick with a rich silence as
the rain turns to snow
–
twilight
listening to
the snow fall

frantically rushing
worried that I’ll be late for
my disappointment
–
winter’s breath
making the trek
to an empty woodbin

a ring tailed hawk watching
the curve of the crescent moon
emerge from the mist
–
the full moon
silhouetted
against the night

lying in the grass
in quiet conversation
with the fallen leaves
–
mottled sunlight
spruce needles
murmur underfoot

come to me softly
slip off your shoes and we’ll dance
in the evening sand
–
mid morning sun
warm black sand after
the retreating tide

the last vestige
of the sinking evening sun
sets the sky alight
–
painted hillsides
a winding road turns
though burning leaves

tall iron street lamps
cast their pallid light over
London’s cobblestones
–
polished pewter
the lustrous glow
of a veiled moon