Iron Haiku – Page 489 – A short form poetry blog

Crimson clouds hang low.

The day’s embers glow softly,

burning down to dusk.
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
Waves, softly lapping

Dappled light wanders.

Across the lush, verdant grass
I go to freeze on dark tides

I wake before three.

for another’s riches

Beneath

hatred is poison
turning ignorance and fear
into pure evil
–
meandering river
crocodiles wait
just below the surface

Movement

slipping off toward
an indifferent future
full of the unknown
–
the future
ruthlessly becoming
the past

Serenade

the wetland chorus
a glorious counterpoint
to my daily grind
–
a Hooded Warbler
wakes me with
flights of fancy