Morning – Page 9 – Iron Haiku

walking from the train
a soft rain begins to wash
off the day’s burdens
–
eyes closed-
rocked to sleep
among strangers

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

just before sunrise-
my tea steeps as a vixen
calls out to her kits
–
plumes of breath-
a young doe
hides her fawn

early morning dew-
clusters of tulips push through
last year’s matted leaves
–
an iron gate-
roses twined around
our postbox

late afternoon breeze-
a cardinal feeds his mate
seeds from my garden
–
morning sunlight-
dogwood brides
dressed in white

the first spring sunrise-
a thin mist of winter clings
to the melting snow
–
daybreak-
a silver moon
over hoarfrost grass

fields of lavender-
if tomorrow never comes
at least we’ll have this
–
apricot sunrise-
hints of vanilla
on the breeze

a mackerel sky-
skeins of canadian geese
flying overhead
–
routine commute-
cardinals cross
my path

a warm rain ended-
softened sunlight drizzles down
to the forest floor
–
dawn breaks-
sunlight arrives
unannounced

dark basement staircase-
the heady scent of baked bread
wafts down from above
–
golden light-
brown buttered toast
and black coffee