Summer – Iron Haiku

a whitewashed rowboat-
dark supple fingers lightly
crease the still water
–
concentric rings-
arrhythmic
dripping

ripples from skipped stones-
a startled box turtle slips
beneath the surface
–
sudden silence-
dragonflies rest
on dimpled water

moonset on the dunes
the smell of last night’s bonfire
lingers in her hair
–
night tide-
stellar sands blaze
across the sky

asphalt reflections-
roots of concrete, steel, and glass
descend from the mist
–
the muted city-
not quite rain
falling

a windswept sandbar-
terns and driftwood bear witness
to the passing clouds
–
the water’s edge-
a plover’s tracks
turn to sea

passing sun showers-
warm rains tease my garden
with false promises
–
grey soil
peppered brown-
scattered rain

metal folding chairs-
coffee cans half full of ash
on the fire escape
–
urban jungle-
pole beans climb
my barred windows

linens on the line-
warm peals of children’s laughter
waft in on the breeze
–
wicker baskets-
a coffee can of
broken clothespins

highway median-
long neglected grasses sway
with the passing cars
–
towering light pole-
a red tailed hawk
spots it’s prey

leaves soft underfoot-
in the dawning mist great oaks
fade into the sky
–
blackbird-
morning fog
through the trees