A fibrous light that weaves itself along

A fibrous light that weaves itself along

by Gideon Burton

A fibrous light that weaves itself along

the eastern mountain ranges thickens hot

as all the molten doubting you had caught

and swallowed from the evening’s sinking songs.

They were too easy, failing in the west

of measured meaning, spitting ashy fire,

provoking piercing silence wet as flesh.

And then the loom of morning, orange mesh

absorbing evergreens, the darkened spires

unshadowed in the valley.  Nothing pressed

by midnight’s ruses but enfolds in rays

of wet release and rich, expanding breath

I’ve often heard the stories naming death

but in this morning those are tales of haze.

Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - shockmotion