Iron Haiku – Page 251 – A short form poetry blog

Crimson clouds hang low.

The day’s embers glow softly,

burning down to dusk.
The night air’s cold hand

reaches down and pulls my breath

in shards from my chest.
The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
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

Shoreline

reeds and rushes-
a warm tide ebbs from the marsh
and runs to the sea
–
sea glass-
walking the beach
at low tide

Endgame

as my eyesight fades
I think I finally see
my destination
–
a grey heron-
motionless in the
standing water

Waiting

staring at the floor
scuffed and worn beneath my seat
from those in my shoes
–
dawn breaks-
outside the
waiting room