Iron Haiku – Page 170 – A short form poetry blog

The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
The night air’s cold hand

reaches down and pulls my breath

in shards from my chest.
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
Crimson clouds hang low.

The day’s embers glow softly,

burning down to dusk.
I go to freeze on dark tides

I wake before three.

for another’s riches
Waves, softly lapping

Dappled light wanders.

Across the lush, verdant grass

Windy

blowing on my tea-
before dawn the feral wind
roars in frustration
–
walking my dog-
the wind nips
at my heels

Melt

late winter garden-
a calico patchwork of
leaves and melting snow
–
a hollow log-
rain falls
on melting ice

Wind

golden fields of wheat-
long blades of giant windmills
lazily turning
–
arid sun-
sagebrush
swirls in wind