The sunset lingered just for me
Upon the water and rising vapor.
The view of the bay: moored sailboats bobbing,
And, far-off, pink-tinted, snow-capped mountains.
My window blazed with the sight, a species of fire.
Darkness fell.
Asleep at my desk, candles burning,
I awoke, gasping, choking.
A predatory fire devoured my manuscript.
Smothering it with a towel,
Throwing open the window,
I tossed the ashes into the garden.
Years passed. Memories of the sea faded.
The rhythm of the waves remained,
Reincarnated
In the glinting glass and hard-packed concrete of the city.
It is a tide of feet,
A crush of cars,
A man-made nature.
And now this child on the seat beside me, handles a doll,
Coddles it, as the train swallows miles.
Curls catch the amber glow of the slanting sun.
A new species of fire.
