by Gideon Burton
Thick flames, as thick as long and ruddy hair,
Entwine the evening sky with smoky mist.
The sweetened stars are dropping everywhere,
As though they sighed from being lightly kissed.
Around this house, this city, lying still
Beneath the windy canyon’s haunting breath
I walk, as though by walking I might fill
Much more than lungs, chase back the death
Of seasons changed and changing, twining flames
Within a common night. Before I can
Inhale the warming air, it cools. The same
Enchantment bleaches white each colored plan.
Before I can one season hold and feel
It buckles, breaking, soft as milk or steel.
Image: flickr - Grufnik