Seasons – Iron Haiku

a whitewashed rowboat-
dark supple fingers lightly
crease the still water
–
concentric rings-
arrhythmic
dripping

ripples from skipped stones-
a startled box turtle slips
beneath the surface
–
sudden silence-
dragonflies rest
on dimpled water

moonset on the dunes
the smell of last night’s bonfire
lingers in her hair
–
night tide-
stellar sands blaze
across the sky

asphalt reflections-
roots of concrete, steel, and glass
descend from the mist
–
the muted city-
not quite rain
falling

a windswept sandbar-
terns and driftwood bear witness
to the passing clouds
–
the water’s edge-
a plover’s tracks
turn to sea

absent mourning doves-
I wander aimless around
this cold empty house
–
twelve years gone-
still missing your
hair in the sink

passing sun showers-
warm rains tease my garden
with false promises
–
grey soil
peppered brown-
scattered rain

lingering aimless-
attempting to cross in vain
the border of death
–
almost free-
weightless and yet
still tied to the earth

approaching daybreak-
the sea air rimed with salt and
the taste of seaweed
–
sand and foam-
the gull’s cry
lingers

a long delayed train-
remnants of morning rain
steaming in the sun
–
the sun long set-
a silent queue
of glowing screens