Light – Page 42 – Iron Haiku

staring at the floor
scuffed and worn beneath my seat
from those in my shoes
–
dawn breaks-
outside the
waiting room

waves rise up and fall
the rhythm of the ocean
moves us together
–
surfing-
the swell
of your hips

families asunder-
buzzards circling high above
the southwest desert
–
riding the smoke-
wild horses
in the distance

lying in my bed
beautiful and poisonous
twisted in the sheets
–
african sun-
death lurks
in the tall grass

leaves swirl in the wind-
a blackbird takes his respite
on my windowsill
–
dandelion seeds-
wishes adrift
on the wind

an empty porch swing-
lazy paddle fans disturb
the hot southern air
–
the forest floor-
dragonflies still
in the thick air

as venus rises
the sun on the horizon
sets the trees aglow
–
western fires-
too soon dowsed
by a deluge of stars

she turns a shy smile-
a web of hairline cracks form
in his tough facade
–
cobwebs-
broken plaster
litters the floor

holes in the floorboards-
the regal oak panel door
left hanging askew
–
no longer a home-
dim autumn light
caught in the cobwebs

testing the waters-
I dip my toe in to check
if I’ll let you in
–
soft light-
my door
slightly ajar