I.
red is the torrid skin
bare to the summer sun
flesh turns beet red & tomato plump
hips swaying to the outdoor music festival
tongue devours the cool ice & wine, sweet
as peaches, plums and strawberries
golden yellow, dark velvet, earthly brown-
we celebrate ripeness in all its colors & spices
II.
red is the torrid sky
scorching the grass to dry pale paper
burning the borreal forest to ash & soot
the sky is smoking darkness during the day
the smell of destruction is invasive
as gypsy moths, all that was vibrant and tall
are now burnt by growing wildfire in an instant
the charred soil is a reminder that death
stamps, entwining with life's abundance
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics, Sometimes August isn't recognized, hosted by Sanaa Rizvi. Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST. During the summer months here in Canada (July to August), we get wildfires in the forests. It is a total destruction of homes and communities.
