Iron Haiku – Page 291 – A short form poetry blog

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
The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
The night air’s cold hand

reaches down and pulls my breath

in shards from my chest.

TV

snoring quietly
your head still on my shoulder-
our show just over
–
dreams of snow-
waking to
tv static

Winter

white breath and mittens-
on the pond shaved ice gathers
the sounds of laughter
–
heavy blankets-
the sound
of falling snow

Harvest

broad fields of amber
spread under a western sky-
gentle autumn rain
–
thinning clouds-
baled hay
in the sun