Seasons – Page 89 – Iron Haiku

from a different life
the passing of an old friend
rests on my shoulders
–
moonrise-
a silver wind
sways the curtains

waiting on my turn-
step by step moving forward
ever so slowly
–
traffic-
another day
turns to night

caught out in squall
running through the rain, wet hair
plastered to her head
–
evening rain-
stepping from
a warm bath

the black charred remnants
of forty years of marriage
smolder between us
–
a fallen tree-
reduced
to ash

almost a month now-
how can I still be finding
crumbs in our bed
–
fresh coffee-
your side of the bed
is still warm

boots in the water
my line slack on the surface
suddenly pulled taut
–
low morning light-
steam rises
off the lake

rooted to the ground
frozen, my mind replaying
one moment in time
–
blinding sun-
the city street
unnaturally quiet

icy drops of rain
slide past my ear and linger
down along my chin
–
parking-
raInbows slide
towards the drain

breathless in the rain-
the greyhound bus pulls away
but you’re not on it
–
a cold rain-
my forehead
on the window

standing behind you
the center of attention
almost out of view
–
ill wind-
spiders repair
their broken webs