Family – Page 18 – Iron Haiku

tender young seedlings-
the promise of the harvest
rises through the snow
–
first snow-
our children’s
hot chocolate

ashes and embers-
my gentle caress lingers
barely on your lips
–
cold glass-
the distance
of your touch

autumn morning light
wanders in through the curtains-
your slow even breath
–
darkness-
waking to
a sudden rain

hard conversations
and a tongue well versed in the
dialogue of death
–
cherry blossoms-
walking the garden
with just enough poison

years of wasted time
of opportunities lost
and then you were gone
–
ancient water-
black scales sink
beneath the surface

driving down the road
catching a glimpse of my wife
in the passing train.
–
flat water-
migrating geese
pass overhead

worn and creaky stairs-
cobwebs draped in the corners
of her addled mind
–
rising fog-
a futile search
for clarity

flags snap in the wind-
lines of waves begin to break
over silver sands
–
snoring-
warm breath
on my neck

full of suspicions-
in our bed looking at you
lying beside me
–
crevasse-
a broken trust
far from healing

a sudden silence
painful accusations still
hanging in the air
–
tiny monarchs-
weightless
milkweed seeds