The two most beautiful things in the
natural world; colors flying & flailing
wondering in amazement & how such
a thing came to be, miraculously there
was color & the odor of the scented
leaves &  stamen & pistils; symbols
of love whole creatures lives depend on;
the blaze tearing through the wilderness
& city alike, shrieking & shirking hot
ash & timber; everything started w/ a
paper match set to love letter & the world
explodes from w/in,   & yet long, long ago
the world was filled w/ flowers that grew
to the size of buildings;  no more, now,
we have fires the size of cities,       states &
small countries & no water,    & no water,
no flowers, no flowers,  no insects & where
there are no insects,    soon there is nothing;
do we really even care?          poetry is fire
in the mind & a flower in hand;
do we even really understand reality,                  
                                      ­                    or care;
                                                          d­o  we?