Wednesday, August 7, 2013


Blue light on the leaves that fall
As they twist and turn on the breeze.
Past glories sadly admitting to present beauty.
The descent a slow and final dance.

Where is the heat of the sun?
Only remembered, in the ghostly forest –
Grey overhead and brown underfoot.
The promise is whispered in the branches
Of new roses coming into bloom –

But not now.
For when the sun breaks through bright
It shines cold on the skin.

My head turns to catch it,
But it is vanished in the trees.

There! Again!
This time it is truly glimpsed –
A floating ember slowly turning to flame,
Before flitting to nothing between the evergreens.

Again! Again! Again!
Like a will o’the wisp
And ever swifter.
It smokes into a blaze and disappears –
Dances through the forest
Abandons all paths.

It gains a voice,
Resonates with song
Echoing off the trees.

And, imperceptibly, the flame billows into form.
She glances over her shoulder –
Laughing, teasing with delight.
She promises everything.
She guarantees nothing.

Consuming all sight.
And all the while vanishing,
And reappearing.
She lights all.
Devours none.


Fades into song alone.
Leaving all alone
With nothing but fragments of music on the wind.
And the dimmed day upon the fallen leaves.

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