Fall – Page 20 – Iron Haiku

a raging torrent-
black water choked with debris
and bad memories
–
murky waters-
stirring up
the past

before the mirror
staring into the unknown-
who the hell am I
–
sunday afternoon-
looking for a family
I swab my cheek

a beacon unlit
the lighthouse tender starts the
long journey upwards
–
your hot breath-
the birth of
a new flame

warm morning sunlight
shines upon on a stranger’s face
in my hotel bed
–
full moon-
muddy tracks
lead to my bed

a bite in the air-
nighthawks begin flying south
along the shoreline
–
orange moon-
the year’s work
ready for harvest

hundreds of candles-
an unlit testament to
this empty vigil
–
tumbled stone-
autumn’s first light
warms the piazza

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

his paper thin skin
stretched across arthritic hands
so easily bruised
–
a spreading elm-
our initials
overgrown

canadian geese
on the way to warmer climes-
cloudless autumn sky
–
mottled light-
kits in their den
below the forest floor