Sound – Page 58 – Iron Haiku

alone in the woods
dry rustling leaves in the wind
the snap of a twig
–
sear grasses
fueling the
inevitable

splintering sunlight
golden arrow shafts quiver
piercing the water
–
the dog days
interrupted by
shattered glass

clinging to the light
for fear I may yet answer
when the darkness calls
–
spring rains
surging cataracts
once docile streams

impatient lemmings
craggy rocks block their passage
to the sea below
–
spring rains
a beaver dam
overflowing

light plays on the walls
alternating blue and red
the sirens, silent
–
puddles in the street
turning to steam
in the sun

the sky burns crimson
in anticipation of
the ocean’s embrace
–
dawn chorus
an homage to
the rising sun

broad wings outstretched
running across the water
before taking flight
–
rustling leaves
wind mulling over
a goose’s wing

stilling the waters
the taste of salt on my lips
from kissing your tears
–
the loon’s cry
rising sun over
a winter lake

when put to paper
a masterpiece is born from
a single feather
–
a stream flows
from my hand
in fits and starts

in the pre dawn hours
the sounds of distant thunder
lull me back to sleep
–
a hard rain
drumming on
rhododendrons