Sleep – Page 5 – Iron Haiku

months of sundays gone-
I still just can’t get used to
sleeping without you
–
autumn winds-
the restless swirl
of fallen leaves

afternoon sunlight-
an old man and his grandson
asleep on the floor
–
sunday mornings-
step stool by the sink
shaving together

my bedside vigil-
each moment slipping away
taking you with them
–
machines hum-
outside your window
a starless night

my back turned to you-
pretending to be asleep as
you climb into bed
–
angry clouds-
blue skies
forgotten

in an old wheelchair
a young girl waits deep inside
the shell of herself
–
first light-
a sliver of dawn
beneath the door

rains of twilight passed-
crickets outside my window
singing me to sleep
–
tv static-
the low hum
of a ceiling fan

on the veranda-
fog slowly climbs the steps on
this soft starless night
–
walking the moon-
a thin fog blankets
fallen gravestones

through lavender clouds-
the cheeks of the sky blushing
with the coming dawn
–
encroaching dawn-
last night’s candles
turned to smoke

awake in the dark
so transfixed by the vision
I can’t make a sound
–
the crickets silenced-
a specter looms
o’er my footboard

in a copper bowl
beneath a blooming dogwood
a robin splashes
–
sudden showers-
a crow flies
through the rain