Fire flies into the skies

Death's Glow

Fire flies into the skies

with no purpose

but to destroy.

The trees struggle

for air and life,

but know only annihilation,

death.

I feel their fate

only at a distance,

without perfect empathy

or mutual suffering,

without real pain.

Death glows orange

and then stabs the eyes

with black.

But one can feel renewal

years later

when saplings begin to reach

for the same skies

that ate the ghosts

of their fathers.

~*~

Written October 1997

Email James

A special thank you to V. Night Zamora ~ Night Photography ~ for the photograph used for this poem.