Summer – Page 3 – Iron Haiku

the screen door askew-
on the dead oak a tire swing
full of autumn leaves
–
a rusted bike-
through the spokes
foxtails grow

the sins of the past-
mixed with the cooling ashes
from the evening fire
–
dragonflies-
old misdeeds cast
upon the water

a worn dinette set-
memories of old comforts
in the falling rain
–
water crackers-
a chipped tea cup
rimmed in red

the garden abed-
ivory morning glories
closed against the night
–
morning dew-
a honeybee drinks
from a lambs ear

honeysuckle wine-
content letting the front porch
host my slow decline
–
passing cars-
an afghan shrouds
her empty rocker

lost amid the clouds-
the afternoon sky whispers
my name to the wind
–
wistfully blue-
dandelions
in your hair

unearthed by the wind-
stone sentinels laid low by
the passage of time
–
dew kissed moss-
a small stone shrine
unvisited

ghost of old rumors-
morbid curiosity
about the house on the hill
–
a one eyed crow-
tortured shrieks of
wrought iron hinges

under a shade elm
I leave a small stone marking
the site of my grave
–
cut white lilies-
so casually
discarded

warm sands and tropi-
the cat yowls and paws my face
demanding breakfast
–
morning zoom call-
for the love of god
mute your mic