Lost – Page 7 – Iron Haiku

softly falling rain-
I finally let you go
for your sake and mine
–
glass in his hair-
a husband waits
in anguished silence

awaiting the fall-
swayed by the prevailing winds
rotten at the core
–
scrub grass-
remnants of glass
in peeling sashes

I’m holding my breath-
when I hit bottom I know
you’ll help me exhale
–
ripples of light-
the water’s surface
far above

wild racing thoughts-
my fix is the sleep I so
desperately crave
–
an open window-
coyotes call out
in the rising dawn

staccato drumming-
the evening rain disappears
into the night’s fog
–
scorched earth-
rain on the tin roof
far too late

river clay and dust
takes on a life of its own
much to my chagrin
–
pounding rain-
the stream a torrent
of mud and debris

our long entrance hall-
the empty peg on the wall
where your coat once hung
–
distant smoke-
years of farmland
turned to ash

months of sundays gone-
I still just can’t get used to
sleeping without you
–
autumn winds-
the restless swirl
of fallen leaves

pale silver moonlight
captured in the broken glass
strewn across the street
–
autum eve-
crickets silenced
by shattering glass

a stone foundation
the remnants of a sawmill
lost to the forest
–
after the fire-
the chimney casts
a long shadow