dew of the willy wag-tail

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You sure don't care,
of the willy wag's
tail flickering,
a glorious
morning,
in
opposition
to burning trees,
a desolation
held so fast,
burning embers
flickering hands
casting out
those flames...
a fire-starter,
whose time begins,
this sick-ness
is the air
we breathe
and try to forgive.....
our sins
and theirs,
and the dark is here
as the flood-lights,
illuminates new-born skies
to eliminate past cries..

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Sara Etgen-Baker

Date: 9/6/2025 5:52:00 AM

liked how this poem unfolded. the entwining and juxtaposition of dark/light at the end was brilliant.

Ryan Geoffrey Hayward
Date: 9/6/2025 11:41:00 AM

Thank-you Sara!