Wind – Page 15 – Iron Haiku

quietly aging-
under the stairs, a box of
curling photographs
–
wind blown leaves-
walking slowly
hand in hand

the gathering rain-
reflections of my spirit
clouding my windows
–
dirty windows-
the outside world
smeared by the rain

a murder of crows
as one silently take wing
into the august sky
–
turning winds-
a crow flies
before the sun

hoping against hope
to stem the incoming tide
and still it rises
–
august-
forsaken
by the sun

the arc of the sky-
uncountable stars over
an ocean of sand
–
a blanket of stars-
hand on the tiller
slave to the wind

surrounded by friends
sitting around the campfire
retelling old tales
–
clearing skies-
broken branches
new neighbors

from across the beach-
the hollow silver ring of
a turtle drum band
–
a cold red stripe-
cabana lights
gently sway

dark clouds veil the sun-
abandoned by my shadow
alone once again
–
brooding skies-
the scowl of
thunderclouds

changing directions
deciding my journey starts
were the pavement ends
–
a cold wind-
stepping out
onto thin ice

standing by the sink
staring at my soapy hands
my momentum gone
–
blinders on-
running headlong
towards a dead end