Fire Poem

Fire, soft fire

languid sanguine glow,

listless smoke, familiar balm,

unanchored and adrift,

more sightly

than the hearthside

secure in iron sheaths --

you are roused by the gale.

Swollen, with florid glints,

you are thrust onto dallis grass,

you are whisked

through the leafy field

that heaves in the wind.

Will the pyre

bleed such effulgent gulps

cemented to brief phrases?