Cold – Page 51 – Iron Haiku

Present

living day to day
ignoring where I’ve been and
what the future holds
–
frost on the grass
awake in the dark
breathless and immobile

tall iron street lamps
cast their pallid light over
London’s cobblestones
–
polished pewter
the lustrous glow
of a veiled moon

reaching through the gloom
seeking the humanity
common to us all
–
a red call box
tendrils of fog
climbing the ivy

the low morning sun
behind a red crepe myrtle
it’s branches aflame
–
fresh snow
blowing alight the coals
of last nights fire

distant sirens wail
slowly I realize that
you’re not coming home
–
a warm shower
startled awake
by the telephone

the Scottish highlands
a castle ruin, moss, and stone
rising from the moors
–
falcons take wing
moonlight ripples
on the loch

well seasoned hardwood
crackles and hisses as it
slowly turns to ash
–
rolling seas
a cigarette cupped
against the wind

freshly cut flowers
in a wreath of fallen leaves
laid upon your grave
–
curled sepia photos
seeds taking root in
freshly turned earth

dawn by the lakeside
white herons fly over mist
lit by the sunrise
–
morning coffee
steam rises
off the grass

the november breeze
ushers in the harvest of
amber winter wheat
–
windblown clouds
shadows glide
over golden fields