|View from my back patio|
to leave comfort
of cool protective cocoon
for the sweltering fumes still rising
from the hard, thirsting dirt
and the waves of fire, like daggers
that still pierce through hot air
of descending afternoon.
Don't look straight at it. It'll hurt.
Even without a glance it attacks,
commands me to shrivel, to conform
to the parched, arid skin of this earth.
It dares me to gaze. I peek
playfully, snapping shots,
transforming negative to positive
images etched in my body -
remnants of a hectic day.
Another fire makes me turn.
He faces me,
flames a little out of control,
his smile exposing
warm, passionate heart
while on the grill he cooks (burns)
a banquet of scrumptious simplicity
while our dogs, run wildly
yelping with joy, thinking,
(the way dogs think)
that they too will partake.
I walk through our little garden maze
of colorful flowers and vegetables buried
in love, waiting for the sun to go
and for water to flood
their desire to grow.
As the light of fire
and the dark of space
meld into peaceful haze,
I sit and breathe the air,
glad to be
out of my cocoon.
(Submitted to Dverse Poets,)