Fall storm


smoke-flavored almond autumn air
resplendent
with pink and blue
fat cherubim clouds
the kind of clouds
from which chubby little boys
with harps and bows and
the deadliest arrows
were meant to fly

stained glass
colors so bright
so clear
so pure as to not be possible
but there anyway
like a special gift
for a few who can see
momentary artwork
sweetened by how
only momentary eyes
will ever find it

the taste -- oh -- the taste
the taste of trees breathing and drinking
and burning
for someone else's coziness

open your window
as you surf the flooded highway slowly
under the electric splitting
of the drenching sky
and taste

by Sara, copyright 1999, all rights reserved