Family – Page 11 – Iron Haiku

low distant thunder-
the smell of fall in the air
as the rain rolls in
–
sleeping cats-
outside the rain
turns to sleet

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

the living desert-
waves carried across the sand
by wind on the dunes
–
tumbleweeds-
a mindless expanse
of lifeless sand

I hit a doorknob
or tripped and fell down the stairs-
I’m just so clumsy
–
an autumn eve-
the sky lit by
a house on fire

trying to balance-
one foot on the precipice
of your adulthood
–
the arc of the sun-
change made
in a single day

a roadside vigil-
flowers for a young man turned
forever nineteen
–
sudden silence-
shell casings
in the grass

before the mirror
staring into the unknown-
who the hell am I
–
sunday afternoon-
looking for a family
I swab my cheek

simple linen shrouds-
worn at a time when we are
all truly equal
–
graveside-
the hollow echo
of falling earth

feeling out of place
out of time and out of mind
without you with me
–
unfamiliar stars-
in hotel sheets
missing you