Time – Page 87 – Iron Haiku

as winter arrives
fog seeps into the valley
under a veiled moon
–
harvest moon-
the arthritic fingers
of barren trees

standing at the bow
salt spray drenching your sundress
the sun in your hair
–
terns on the wing-
flecks of sea foam
floating gently past

gilded double doors
open with empty promises
of false salvation
–
heavy leaden sky-
swollen riverbanks
poised to overflow

tumbling down hill
chatting and laughing aloud
running to the sea
–
freshly frozen-
on the lake shore
crackled glass

staring deep into
an empty sheet of paper
conjuring the muse
–
winter’s canvas-
a palette of pine
and fresh snow

a new day dawning
stale vestiges of the past
left by the roadside
–
first light-
the morning star
through hollow trees

chasing the sunset
just over the horizon
ever out of reach
–
hoary grass-
the sky aglow in
morning twilight

death comes unbidden-
a brief pause before leaving
to collect his due
–
icicles-
melting in
the winer sun

visiting the well
my wooden bucket dipping
deep in the moonlight
–
alongside the lake-
the harvest moon
follows me home

splintering sunlight
broad winter shadows reaching
out across the lea
–
fresh snow-
a smattering
of paw prints