I dream of forest fires –
yellow flames leap
from tops of trees –

and when I wake,
the trees are ablaze –
orange conflagrations

of leaves
intensified by sunrise
red and fueled

by a cold fire of frost,
their final flare-up
before the little death of season.

They do not dream in winter,
but still burn in their sleep,
as I do.

10/28/2001

Posted on 10/28/2001
Copyright © 2024 Bruce W Niedt