Time – Page 69 – Iron Haiku

the taste of winter
falling from the sky for miles
to melt on my tongue
–
platform two-
frost gathers
on my lashes

embers burning low-
on the rim of my wine glass
crimson lipstick stains
–
lingering-
ruby lips and
a good bordeaux

delicate saplings-
bending to the fickle will
of the winter wind
–
bare branches-
a light dusting
of fresh snow

southward flying geese
their long journey just begun
as mine is ending
–
warm boots-
my old dog’s
snowy muzzle

by her bedroom door
listening to my daughter
cry herself to sleep
–
leafless boughs-
no resistance to
the howling winds

echoing silence-
bodies strewn haphazardly
on the downtown streets
–
an absence of birds-
villagers gather fish
in the receding sea

heads bowed in respect
under an overcast sky
the flag at half mast
–
rising winds-
halyards ring
the flagpole

filling the valley-
bright sunlight captured in the
autumn morning mist
–
slanted sunlight-
in the canyon
a river of fog

early summer hay
cut by hand and harvested
drying in the sun
–
short shadows-
winnowing wheat
under the burning sun

november evening-
skeletal trees charcoal black
in the fading light
–
graveyard’s edge-
bone fingers
in the mist