Seasons – Page 57 – Iron Haiku

an ancient copper bell
burnished by the history
of thousands of hands
–
a forest shrine-
autumn mist clings
to the hillside

lonely red roses
walked off from the outside by
a thicket of thorns
–
the sun
our children at play
in the back yard

folding the laundry-
I struggle with the mundane
while fame eludes me
–
feeding the birds-
a passing peacock
opens his tail

running through the woods
peep frogs fall silent as I
pass by unannounced
–
frozen breath-
the sun rises
to greet me

goose down sleeping bags
the morning mist rises as
we share the sunrise
–
breaking sunlight-
our bedroom window
kissed by frost

alone in my room-
I can only feel safe when
no one’s allowed in
–
dying light-
the forest
changes

black potbellied stove-
the evening’s load of firewood
stacked up along side
–
stars in the sand-
our fire stoked
by the ocean breeze

warm morning sunlight-
a vague shadow on the wall
in the shape of you
–
a glass of wine-
the warm glow
on your face

autumn afternoon-
driving home in the dark past
drifts of wind blown leaves
–
light snow-
a swirl of
amber leaves

far down on the street
I look up towards the top floors
enveloped by clouds
–
incoming tide-
the golden gate bridge
draped in fog