Member Poem

Smokeless fires rising high
never burning their wicks,
bits of flame swirling in gray skies
like sparks from a forge.

Cool, crisp air,
tangy with apple and clove
and cinnamon, too,
biting the nose
as I walk alone.

Manicured lawns that catch fire,
a blazing inferno
of scarlet and gold,
divided by a blacktop river
on which glowing coals
float downstream on winds of change.

The princes of the air whisper
in hushed tones to me,
their voices carrying along
the scintillating embers
of the fallen sylvan crowns.

Blazing like a phoenix
I am witness to the revival
as the old is burned away
to prepare for the renewal
on the other side of slumber.

Originally published under the name twowolves80 at https://allpoetry.com/poem/12530953-Crowns-of-Fire-by-Twowolves80