The Paths Go Up

Life flares up, like a forest fire,
Flames of aggravation licking the treetops,
All vision obscured by a flame of red.

Then the cool dank mist descends,
Streaming around the tall redwoods,
Milky, bitter tasting, like tears and rot.

Is that a thin ray of light I see?
It weaves its way through the shadowed heights
Blessing the ground like an absence of pain.

The world spins around on its axis
Sometimes in light, sometimes in shadow
Some days we are ravens, other days, frogs.

* * *







I may take tomorrow off from blogging, if I can manage to tear myself away. It's hard on the eye to stare at a screen this much, and I do have other things that need doing. It's also not like I haven't been writing enough online, both here and on various comment lists.