Sun – Page 3 – Iron Haiku

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

a cold night’s work done-
the creeping light of daybreak
seeps into my tomb
–
guttering torchlight-
weary of the death
that slakes my thirst

seeking inner peace-
silently blessing all those
who would do me ill
–
approaching dawn-
tea and birdsong
refills my soul

lavender shadows-
flowers from a tuscan yard
in a patch of sun
–
cardinal songs-
a sun flower
turns its head

the dawning solstice-
children of the earth and sky
taste the rising sun
–
pheasant’s eyes-
ghosts of stone men
herald the sun

black america
locked inside the golden door
yearning to breathe free
–
hot city streets-
new seedlings break
through the concrete

soaring red-tailed hawks-

below veiled skies verdant trees

emerge from the mist

–

between the clouds

and the cut grass-

a wounded crow

my rhododendrons-
robins erupt into song
just before the dawn
–
the sun rises-
heedless of the
whiskey and beer

a chorus of birds-
greening trees cast shade across
our secret meadow
–
slating sunlight-
motes of dust
defy gravity