Sound – Page 19 – Iron Haiku

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

shards of broken glass
strewn deeply across my path
yet still I walk on
–
moonlit surf-
hatchling turtles
dash for the sea

it’s far too simple-
these old men send the sons of
others to their deaths
–
a spring breeze-
the fog of war
swept out to sea

a wine glass empty
save for the mark your lips made
when kissing the rim
–
thick woolen socks-
a spark jumps
between our lips

a sudden cloudburst-
the rain soaking my shoes as
I run for cover
–
hazy sunshine-
sidewalks steaming
from the passing rain

wind rustles the leaves
and coaxes a dryad’s song
of spring from the trees
–
whispers-
forest giants
shake off the cold

a soul deeply flawed
ichorous and fetid cast
from a broken mold
–
bathing rituals-
filing ewers by
the riverbanks

northern white cedars-
the cliff face of ragged stone
falling to the sea
–
out of the fog-
a grand tower
of sun bleached stone

the ghost of winter
runs her fingers through my hair
and kisses my neck
–
a cold wind-
blowing sand
and salt spray

on a twisted branch
outside my window a crow
in the black of night
–
india ink-
an ebony feather
is my quill