Life – Page 69 – Iron Haiku

waking every day
under a threadbare blanket
to an empty bed
–
bleary eyed-
the crows outside
contemplate murder

softly spoken words
meant for only you to hear-
whispers by your neck
–
our wedding duvet-
my open heart by
your sleeping ear

sharing in your pain-
my heart and soul wrapped around
your weary shoulders
–
staring at the floor-
the world rolls past
my window

whispering my name-
the last word upon your lips
before you leave me
–
peeling paint-
the swinging gate
at my back

an early robin-
lichen covered granite steps
cut into the hill
–
holly berries-
amid the ivy
a cardinal

a cool cloudy night-
the horizon aglow with
fingers of lighting
–
dry lightning-
fire licks the walks
of the arroyo

warm and supple light-
long trails of candle wax drip
and pool on the floor
–
candlelight-
shadows buffeted
by the wind

in a farmer’s wall
amid the moss and loose stones
frogs sing in the night
–
crickets-
rain traces
stone to stone

up above the fray
just outside of the spotlight
he tugs on the strings
–
a rumpled hat-
his marionette dances
for loose change

in the dark shadows
cobwebs cling to memories
of a distant past
–
winter stubble-
remnants of
my father