Seasons – Page 86 – Iron Haiku

asleep on a bench
the hard rap of a nightstick
startles him awake
–
dark rain-
wet newspaper
her only refuge

the sliding doors shut
as the train pulls away I’m
still on the platform
–
changing winds-
the last robin
takes wing

surrounded by wealth
still dissatisfied with the
overabundance
–
winter rain-
runnels
overflowing

the heat of the forge-
showers of embers rise up
into a gunmetal sky
–
cold anvil-
hammers
ringing

over chips and drinks
the sounds of friendship filter
through my old screen door
–
dark windows-
piles of chips
shufflled cards

our fingers entwined-
the dusky blush of daybreak
mirrored in your face
–
the rising sun-
my finger traces
along your lips

going to bed late
dreading the dawn for who knows
what the day may bring
–
blowing snow-
the coarse growl
of a passing train

walking on eggshells
at the door I stop and turn-
you’re watching me leave
–
predawn-
hard and cold
the bedroom floor

shadows of chimneys
painted on the rising smoke
by the setting sun-
–
curls of smoke-
your lipstick on
my cigarette

tufts of rabbit fur
strewn across the forest floor
beneath the owls nest
–
burning sands-
the condor casts
a broad shadow