Monday, April 4, 2011
A blanket of burning lava spilled across the hills.
It flowed into the sky and set fire to the clouds.
The boiling heavens drifted east to morning;
pink cotton candy bubbling in an ocean of blue.
The eleventh of December was bitterly cold.
The embers in the sky were deceptively bold.
The sweetness vanished before the rising sun
as burning beauty turned golden on the lawn.
Now distant purple mountains smolder.
Halos of fog surround them…celestial crowns.
The world wakes; stumbling to the highways;
pilgrims oblivious to the red fires of dawn.