Sparks

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each a tiny life that soars
glows a moment free
of wood and the binding of tree limbs
the end not in slow
cold fermentation with worm and beetle
rust red dulling
sliding into primal slime
but in the glorious laughter
of fire cackle and crackle
leaping the sky.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

8 thoughts on “Sparks”

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