Life – Page 120 – Iron Haiku

thin tendrils of smoke
weave the final tapestry
of a dying fire
–
rose petals
still warm from
the evening sun

gathering sunlight
wakes the tangled vines of shy
morning glory blooms
–
rustling leaves
a shaft of light
warming my cat

impatient lemmings
craggy rocks block their passage
to the sea below
–
spring rains
a beaver dam
overflowing

lips brushing her neck
the whisper of her shoulder
just touching my cheek
–
caught standing
in your warm
footprints

deck lights turning on
unexpected visitor’s
nose against the glass
–
rising smoke
camp fire
embers

slow rhythmic moonlight
shining across the surface
of a mountain lake
–
an old rope swings
calm lake water
before the fall

light plays on the walls
alternating blue and red
the sirens, silent
–
puddles in the street
turning to steam
in the sun

the sky burns crimson
in anticipation of
the ocean’s embrace
–
dawn chorus
an homage to
the rising sun

I can’t remember
dwelling in darkness since I
came into your light
–
barren trees
stand vigil
awaiting sunrise

broad wings outstretched
running across the water
before taking flight
–
rustling leaves
wind mulling over
a goose’s wing