In my dream,
spot-fires bleed across the foothills,
crest on the summit,
swoop into our valley.
In the morning,
when I awaken,
you are gone.
I wrote this poem a couple of years ago. The night before last, the first stanza actually happened. You may have read of the horrendous wind-fueled fires we had here in Reno yesterday…not far from me. (The second stanza is fictional).
I believe that fire, like change, is a natural part of nature’s cycle–a force that destroys the old and useless to make way for new growth. As much as I hate to think of destruction, we need that friction of two sticks rubbing together to generate creativity.
Coincidently, our charming hostess, Sheila Moore, offers up a prompt about change at dVerse Poetics today. If you’re looking for a fun and exciting way to spend the evening, drop on by and bring a poem of your own. You won’t be disappointed!