To the East
Bow to the dying day
Burning in the
Raging red of
Cooling fires overhead
Western skies
Where we watch
and run to
inhale new life
usurped from the ebbing tide
A raging mountain
casting off an avalanche
of rolling hills
wave after wave
of the pyroclastic flow
heaving Charon's skiff
a potent tempest
unfettered now in command
This river
to be ensnared
not by I
a Pandora's box
knowingly released
and as controllable
as the comet
that flashes across the sky

© 1997, Robinson Publications, all rights reserved