Spring – Page 7 – Iron Haiku

offshore thunderstorms-
an old salt returns to the
bosom of the sea
–
crimson skies
a funeral boat
adrift and alight

a fallen cedar
rotting in the undergrowth
turning back to earth
–
soft underfoot-
a carpet of
rotting leaves

droning bumblebees
flit from flower to blossom
gathering nectar
–
a young black bear-
prospecting
for gold

softly he sings-
the workday forgotten as
he tends his bonsai
–
an empty bench-
pigeons await
her arrival

slow afternoon rain-
long twisted rivulets run
across my windshield
–
mile twelve-
drops of sweat
mark my run

trash cans at the curb
the stars at my back as I
walk back up the drive
–
upended bins-
a bandit masked
in the moonlight

unexpected rain-
flowing into the gutter
a child’s masterpiece
–
mountain and sky-
colors blended
on my canvas

a yellow sundress-
the scent of lilac blossoms
carried on the breeze
–
dreams of dawn-
waking memories
of jasmine

gold and silver koi
resting by the water’s edge
scatter the moonlight
–
water lilies-
a dragonfly’s
reflection

falling dogwood blooms-
little bird tell me why you’ve
abandoned your nest
–
morning drizzle-
a robin guards
her empty nest