Drifting

burning a brush pile

The floor of heaven has been lost from my sight

Only her cerulean blanket can I see

It spreads the horizon and purposely touches my field of tender green

Yesterday’s bounty of clearing the land is piled to one side

And will now be consumed to make way for the harvest’s plunder

The first strike of the match sends flames racing to the sky

But in no time at all the dead-wood is consumed as embers begin to glow

And I spy soft white wisps of smoke begin to draw

 At first it moves  like the hand of a lover

Clinging to the surface of the land

Then its simple nature gleams as it begins its heavenly ascent

The drifting smoke begins skipping stairs when a thermal it soon rides

And the weaving, marbling and twisting wave of smoke is dissolved until it has departed from my sight

 

Reviews

[roarke]

Excellent piece. A slightly different tone for you, but you are a multi-toned writer.
The line breaks give focus and clarity to the images. The words you use have a measure and rhythm to them that conjures the mood and conveys the poem's message with feeling and depth. Great write.

[closed..acct]

This is so wonderful Cherrie, Amazing!

[Ed Hart]

and we stand there, hypnotized

[Marie]

Marvelous image of sky, land and fire.