Seasons – Page 46 – Iron Haiku

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

a deer in the woods-
the chorus of spring peepers
suddenly silent
–
midnight-
startled awake by
preternatural stillness

writing in the dark-
I dip my pen into the
inkwell of the night
–
a forest path-
fallen trees
turn to dust

wind at the windows-
as I move to tend the fire
the cat takes my seat
–
late winter morn-
my calico sleeps
in a patch of sun

the slow push of surf-
a lighthouse in the distance
obscured by the fog
–
distant foghorns
cairns lost
to the tide

great sheets of lake ice
cracked and heaving in the sun
as they come onshore
–
a cold night-
the ice in your drink
begins to melt

ripples on ripples-
the pond’s once glassy surface
welcomes back the rain
–
a forest lea-
the doe and her fawn
return to the wood

tiger lilies bloom-
last year’s fallen leaves begin
dancing with the wind
–
crocus blooms –
a young robin
in my birdbath

rhapsody in blue-
the crush of humanity
just outside my ears
–
the subway shuttle-
a ragged busker
bows his violin

clutching thoughts and prayers
while we let those who suffer
slip through our fingers
–
predawn chill-
sleeping children
suddenly fatherless