Friday, February 20, 2009

Fire Time

is when the grass is bleached and dry
and it rustles in the hot wind like crumpled paper
and the trees hold their brown-edged leaves up high for fear
of the spark

is when the old black wires inside the walls
shed their insulation like a tangle of snakes hidden
among splintery laths or like half-forgotten sins coming to light
and they spark

is when God lays a hand on a heart of dust
that might have stopped beating from exhaustion
or might never have lived at all and the first beat happens
with a spark

is made up of spark moments
death moments
life moments
fire time is
sparks

Collection available! Knocking from Inside

5 comments:

Library Girl said...

I really liked this. The imagery is wonderful!

Jamie said...

Sometimes the air feels electric as if that spark could start a conflagration at any seond.

Anna said...

Hi! A very nice poem!
Very creative!
Happy Manic Monday!

maryt/theteach said...

There is beauty in your poetry, Tiel! Happy MM! :)

My Autism Insights said...

Lovely imagery!