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?