Ironing “Haiku”

fresh linen

still dew damp

puffs a dragon’s breath


crisp whiteness

yields to the fire

folds, unfold the thyme


soft cashmere wool

needs a delicate touch,

dough on a hook


pink shirts remember

all the boardroom collars,

a flamingo in a pond


stripy shirts, a pelican

crossing the road

on the way to the Abbey


a white pillowcase

sleeps all cotton-wool,

a cirrus cloud wafts


a locomotive harkens to

an aeon passing

tumbleweed somersaults


the razor crease,

as sharp as any lime

cuts to the quick of silence


a pile of washing

is ready to hang,

now waiting on a wardrobe


and in the morning

a choice of shirt

which then to pick?


a Kashmir dawn

with the spice of orient,

sniffs at the wind


pennies in a pocket,

change for the boatman?

he listens with intent


dawn whispers soft,

iron and water

which of these endures?