Iron Haiku – Page 331 – 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.
I go to freeze on dark tides

I wake before three.

for another’s riches
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
Waves, softly lapping

Dappled light wanders.

Across the lush, verdant grass
The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future

Heat

arid desert sands
old leather cracking in the
unforgiving sun
–
rising smoke-
a candle’s
last remnants

Dawn

waiting for the sun
thready morning clouds make way
for her arrival
–
open windows-
awake before
the alarm

Silver

waning pewter clouds
part to reveal the dark moon
hidden in plain sight
–
silver threads-
weaving by
moonlight