Published in Minnow Literary Magazine

Where fire has been

snarling, leaping at trees
till groaning they turn
to black torsos
twisted limbs:
over the bleak scene
a breeze now blows
cloudlets of seeds.

Rich ash feeds
green embryos
pushes shoots skyward
opens leaves and finally
these flowers
fierce pink as sundown
bright as flames
rosebay willowherb

fireweed.