Phoenix
(Day 4 of the Poem-A-Day in April 2009 exercise)
She looked like any old bird,
A little larger than most perhaps.
Some glint in her eye might have warned
Of something strange, but who had time?
Yes, the effervescent feathers indicated
Not an ordinary fowl, but who could see?
The striking moment came and went,
Incendiary and sublime, but still,
Aren’t these merely moments we all know?
Auto-da-fe with the emphasis on auto,
Giving up the ghost, giving in to
Circular destinies. Thermal incentives,
Transcendent introspection and a fiery finish
With a touch of ennui and melancholy
Thrown in for the bystander.
But wasn’t that on just last week?
When the ashes shifted in the breeze,
And the bird stood up, blinking its fresh eyes,
No one remained for the miracle.
But they’d known that was coming too.
© 2009 Chuck Puckett
4 April, 2009