Iron Haiku – Page 507 – A short form poetry blog

Crimson clouds hang low.

The day’s embers glow softly,

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

I wake before three.

for another’s riches
The night air’s cold hand

reaches down and pulls my breath

in shards from my chest.

Shelter

freshly mown spring grass
a frog hops to the safety
of an old stone wall
–
the bull frog
peeks out from
behind a stone

Avoidance

in grape arbor
a cardinal seeks shelter
from the driving rain
–
secluded
deep within
my wine glass

Zephyr

an old wind wanders
aimlessly, its raspy voice
barely a whisper
–
dry leaves
huddle
in the corner