Seasons – Page 29 – Iron Haiku

my bedside vigil-
each moment slipping away
taking you with them
–
machines hum-
outside your window
a starless night

an overnight frost-
reluctant to let go of
these summer evenings
–
a new day born-
on the pumpkins
a touch ol frost

vampires do exist-
in fact I’m sure one lives in
this overstuffed couch
–
the forest floor-
twigs and sticks snap
underfoot

grey dying embers-
on rising smoke the campfire
draws its final breath
–
evening dew-
cooling ashes and
echoes of laughter

in the western sky
the sun sets on iron clouds
promising thunder
–
leaves in the wind-
the low rumble
of distant thunder

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

summer’s final breath-
the wind in the autumn leaves
whispering goodbye
–
a covered bridge-
fallen leaves dance
before the rain

a rotting boardwalk
crosses an estuary
flowing to the sea
–
low tide-
razor clams
burrow in the mud

moonlight in her hair-
she walks along the shoreline
and into the night
–
a turtle’s splash –
the moon wavers
on the water

patiently waiting-
at the terminal rain sheets
down tinted windows
–
autumn evening-
once again
I’m alone