Season of Flame
The Albatross soars high;
above billowing smoke from the fires.
The tendrils of sunlight;
break through lower clouds
reaching for the crests of waves.
Great fires decimate these lands and
dispel all truths leaving an acid-like
taste in your mouth.
As water hits the flames;
dark smoke changes to white.
The mountain lion, black bear,
deer and others run from burning
thickets to clearings, trying to out-
run the choking smoke.
To unravel this stifling torment;
the end must begin somewhere.
The Albatross soars higher;
over ever rising smoke at sunset.
My hand reaches out to block
the suns rays; soaring high is a lone
white gull, a warm breath on cheeks
reflected in blue sky; parted lips.
The sea overflows the white sands
serene of shadow; soft of noise
wings of green teal swiftly wave;
I see a blue autumn sky
love, hopes and
sometimes, I see you there.
Off-shore is where you'll find me
even if you're only
Ocean winds beckon taking
me so far away from you;
an autumn sea rages.
The great white sheets fill
we're swiftly heeled to starboard
calling us to lands faraway.
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, poet and fabulist from New Hampshire. He now resides in Oklahoma. Ken loves writing, thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night and spending time with his cats Willa and Yumpy.