Irony – Page 3 – Iron Haiku

a sidewalk cafe-
lunch forgotten as a crow
lands on my table
–
al fresco-
a rain drop
in my coffee

in a shadow box
fragments of my broken heart
preserved and on display
–
shimmering heat-
pools of water
just out of reach

shards of broken glass
strewn deeply across my path
yet still I walk on
–
moonlit surf-
hatchling turtles
dash for the sea

puppets to a one-
dancing to unheard music
hung from tangled threads
–
skeletal fingers-
pulling taut
the threads of fate

midwinter moonlight-
hushed stillness split by the cries
of mother and child
–
nesting jays-
the silence of
broken eggshells

an old church graveyard
dogwood petals salt the ground
o’er the waiting dead
–
grey rain-
tumbled stones
on hallowed ground

rain thunders outside-
oil painted landscapes smearing
against my window
–
old masters-
failing vision
frozen in time

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

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

passing the graveyard-
a pale white lady rises
from tendrils of fog
–
solemn silence-
hands clasped
in a circle