Smoke – Page 4 – Iron Haiku

mirror finished steel-
chrome and crimson upwell as
I lick the razor
–
melting ice-
warm and salty
on my tongue

a fire in the hearth-
my well worn leather arm chair
and a mug of tea
–
frosted glass-
your cold feet
under my legs

downcast hazel eyes-
blistered feet dangle from the
hospital gurney
–
bitter winds-
the horizon
set aglow

japanese maples-
bright crimson leaves caught aflame
in the morning sun
–
sudden rain-
sheltering under
an elephant’s ear

down along the tracks-
in the distance the fog glows
with a passing train
–
a waiting owl-
the train echos
through the hollow

cold morning sunlight-
fruit wood smoke gently rises
from the stone chimney
–
Not yet risen-
the scent of kona
from the kitchen

just another day
thoughts and prayers for the dead while
no one does a thing
–
a quiet morning-
evil flourishes
in the silence

the living desert-
waves carried across the sand
by wind on the dunes
–
tumbleweeds-
a mindless expanse
of lifeless sand

I hit a doorknob
or tripped and fell down the stairs-
I’m just so clumsy
–
an autumn eve-
the sky lit by
a house on fire

crawling out of bed
passing by the hall mirror
my reflection gone
–
the dead of night-
awaiting your
invitation