An Ethereal Rising

You  are pale, indistinct, a wraith of
Cool fire hanging dusky-pink

Immobile before my  eye, wrapped
Fine white threads of mist cloying

Fingers flatten, distance your roundness.
You  seem  so frail.

Where  is your power  to climb, to
Scald, to burn?  Your  thin arms only

Haunt  the world this morning as I
Watch  you fade from  sight.

Yet  you will surface, bend the
Air  with heat, full-face your audience to

Hog  the day's lime-light. For now
You  disappear from view

Wrapped  in gauze and  declining
Power  and purpose like a shy

Debutante, coyly
Hiding a bright orange gaze, pitiless

That is latent now and hazed,

And  I lament your powerlessness
In the face of such lirnp stuff

As  this fog is and
Wait  for change.
Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem