March 2014 – Iron Haiku

Howling in a rage.
Screaming, I vent my anger,
Then fall silent, spent.

A vortex of blue
flame howling in the furnace
as I gather glass.

The sun has risen
and shone its warmth on my face
for the final time.

I wish it was when
cold winter days were naught
but a memory.

Waves softly lapping.
Across the lush, verdant grass,
dappled light wanders.

The night air’s cold hand
reaches down and pulls my breath
in shards from my chest.