Leviticus 1: Burnt Offerings

The ground is deep with snow
and it takes time to dig out the cast iron fire pit,
and fill it, not with logs
but with letters of innocence,

from a time when you believed
more than could have been possible, when
love was pure, and you
felt what was not there, blind

to your own faults and to that soul
you felt so linked to, and yet,
were not.

You light the match, and flames leap
in a tortured dance, lighting the night sky
with their writing as letter by letter,
you watch your past fly

heavenward in bright sparks,
and then, like life, and at times, human love,
flicker out.

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The title and idea for the poem came from my bible reading in Leviticus this morning. Chapter 1 is about burnt offerings, not exactly what the poem is about, and yet, there are themes that link that book and this poem.

The picture was taken in Botetourt Country, at a church gathering a couple of years ago with my fiends at Welspring Presbyterian Church. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: September Rain

September Rain

It is raining,
a slow, misty,
barely there kind of rain,
hardly seen, yet,
should you sit in the garden for
any length of time,
you are drenched,
the cold wetness
soaking deep into your bones;
a rain deceptive
and seductive,
like love
that has turned to....
something else,
a thing that no longer nourishes,
but creeps into your soul
and leaves it
November cold.

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The picture was taken at Elmore Roots, a nursery in Northern Vermont, where they say "If it grows in Elmore, it will grow where you are. " The original image was bright and rich green, but I modified it to fit the poem. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom