Time – Page 8 – Iron Haiku

milkweed in the wind-
beside the ancient live oak
I bury our bones
–
a lonesome gong-
pale wisps of trees
fade in the mist

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

an old farmers sink-
her mind miles away from the
blood in the carpet
–
back garden soil-
no amount of soap
makes her feel clean

under summer stars-
in the fading moonlight she
could almost be you
–
iron skies-
across the piazza
you become the crowd

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

vultures overhead-
circling waiting before
feasting on the dead
–
red skies-
a tempest
at our door

soaring red-tailed hawks-

below veiled skies verdant trees

emerge from the mist

–

between the clouds

and the cut grass-

a wounded crow

shadows of small flags-
with a bouquet of flowers
she runs to your grave
–
mourning doves-
the young man
on the mantle

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