Fire

Some say the burn is necessary
but I beg to differ.

Those rising feelings
when someone is on your mind.
Do they really mean to be there
or are they an excess of Dickens’s cheese?

Will you wake to find the burn
has melted your toasted thoughts
to reveal nothing but a corruption
of moldy imagination?

Of course there is that smile
and those eyes
that fabric touch
and the dancing soft-footed perfume
which as a whole burns holes
but really, do we need it?

That fire
consumes
resistance,
and yet …

Pause

Seeing reflections as they dance
to life’s ongoing masquerade
I pause to admire patterns
created with such magic
as only imagination can enhance

I pause also to ponder
only to fail in my thoughts,
for my reflection
dances
when I cannot

The darkness of night’s embrace

~

Beak full
skipping through daisies and buttercups
the blackbird hurries along
till it reaches the spread of green
beneath mottled clouds
beneath the blue
of distant time

and there in the shadows
he rests and imagines himself an owl
sailing through the night
with silent wings
seducing the air with soft caresses
of feathered kisses
in the darkness of night’s embrace

and there
beneath the comfort of green’s sanctuary
he peeks out at the distant blue
with only a beak of orange giving him away
and there
off he goes
to fill his beak once more
to feed his children not only worms and caterpillars
but tales of mystery and imagination
of owls and the beauty of life

and there
as they drift off to sleep

whoo hoooo
whoo hoooo

in the distance
of their dreams
beneath the comfort of green’s sanctuary