|
Poetry
by Kenneth McRobbie
Great Fire of the World
Highway No.1. East of Regina
Dust was freckling the scarcely-dry paint
on signposted
Centennial beginnings,
as we drove across a prairie
reduced to ashes, in this terrible summer
of leaning barns
whitened by winds
from vaporated slews.
Now as evening falls into night
I stare into the great fire
of the world
in this campground’s corner.
First to go, crumpled newspaper;
last of all, this continent's
New Testament dream
of growth – renunciation.
Yet still the brightest sparks ascend
to unearthly certainties,
before swooping
to set the tree-wall dancing.
Dropping from shadowed tent flaps,
space-age insects cool their wings
beside medieval moths
in shivering sandy soils.
A splinter flares, then dies
on the slanting vowels of Saskatchewan's
brave lined smile.
In that split-second halo
no better place from which
to see fire within fire: dove-grey
cities whispering down,
Florida listing another degree.
–•–
[Distillate © HA&L + Kenneth McRobbie | {from the Greek bios} -- the course of a life.]
|