Summer Evening


                                        It was the sky bled red,
                                        all the storms and wars
                                        recalled in clouds at sunset—

                                        daily prey to fang and claw
                                        remembered for an instant,
                                        on parade before our infinite

                                        and deep blue space—
                                        a quick and steamy splash
                                        in a flame-fed frying pan

                                        in the pines around a fire,
                                        snowmelt tumbling,
                                        grumbling from the sky.

                                        We transport ourselves
                                        as bundles of hair triggers,
                                        each follicle reaching out

                                        to defy time and distance,
                                        to escape the righteous, taste
                                        the air and remain alive.

One response to “Summer Evening

  1. Beautiful! Don’t you fee sorry for people who don’t live in the West???


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