Holy Heat

Holy heat

from deep inside.

Not where thighs meet

but earth’s great abide.

Tempting late night,

lake, woods, fields

becoming mosaic light

as the darkness yields.

Encircled in stone

once wet, once wood

hot crackle, hot moan

a fire here stood.

Tower of ashes

expands full height,

then collapses

glow takes flight.

Fleeting sparks

amid darkest blue;

flashing arcs

dispel the dew.

Left: aching embers

thrust apart,

now re-membered

what from the start

was log, even tree

before becoming

fiery geometry.

(cc) Karen G. Johnston