Fire Poem by Christian Thomas Scott

When the ground is singed in summer,
By the spears of light, and those that miss
The other orbs encircling:
They are not too close behind.
Every mouthful, heavy laden,
Crisp with lack of saturation
Lost amid a heated torrent,
Fall as lighter than the breeze.
Dance and play the silent window: forests,
Turned and changed by man,
Heavy, do the fire honor,
And salute the splintering bands.
When will they return? Oh, it's been
So very long. So very
Very long to be
Away.