September 2018 – Iron Haiku

the front door ajar-
shards of glass litter the hall
of my ruined home
–
crows take wing –
a fir crashes
to the forest floor

late into the night-
pouring over lesson plans
and student papers
–
a clenched fist-
time still runs
through my fingers

the afternoon sky-
dark shadows of contrails paint
the white clouds bellow
–
early morning-
my head and office
above the clouds

wings skim the lake as
a great blue heron takes flight
in the predawn mist
–
the rising sun-
hidden amid
the cattails

in the driving rain-
train doors close as a blue suit
runs past my window
–
dripping leaves-
rippled shadows
in clear water

a raging torrent-
black water choked with debris
and bad memories
–
murky waters-
stirring up
the past

before the mirror
staring into the unknown-
who the hell am I
–
sunday afternoon-
looking for a family
I swab my cheek

a beacon unlit
the lighthouse tender starts the
long journey upwards
–
your hot breath-
the birth of
a new flame

warm morning sunlight
shines upon on a stranger’s face
in my hotel bed
–
full moon-
muddy tracks
lead to my bed

waiting for the bus
she seeks shelter from the rain
and years of abuse
–
a sudden squall-
the sky bruised
and blackened