Haiku the Eleventh

Photo Credit: Simonds. Licensed CC-By-NonCommercial-NoDerivs
Photo Credit: Simonds. Licensed CC-By-NonCommercial-NoDerivs

Yellow crane presides
over the sunset, blinking
red over dark blue

“Come on John Boy”–John’s
the man in the wheelchair but
someone’s impatient.

Truck in the sun
waits blinking for a right turn
no wind, still freezing.

“Sit, sit,” says the man
I look over my shoulder–
oh, he has a dog.

Rain, hesitating
before it once more decides
to drop in rhythm.

My sadness, at last,
might be but sadness, and not
some shredding world’s end.

Two surgical masks
unstretched, rectangles, racing
to the hill’s bottom.

Another siren
to the south, glissing over
Ravel’s Bolero

If the clarity
of this day matched the weather
I’d be bright, and cold.

Young man with a dog
walking north; the ambulance
sits for another

“I want to take you higher”–
one voice, one platform.

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