The Fire
How
ends this lovely salt-air island day’s –
sunglow? High blue mackerel sky flushed salmon;
my whole horizon blushed vermilion –
gold scarlet flames set mountainsides ablaze.
Meanwhile, a symphony in orange glaze
caught sea-calm fractals cadmium-crimson.
Never have I known such livid reds shown on
Canvas-scape, snapshot, vivid colour plays.
Light
lenses through my shadowed soul; where pitch dark,
squat grey-griefs, deep root hurts, poisons within,
begin to smoulder, crackle, till all burns
to nothing on my sad heart’s hearth. That lark,
this sun, will scorn on its renascent spin
those ashen ghosts - their phoenix-like returns.
Susan Down
September 2007