“In a moment,” Sitting with the flames.

“In a moment,” Sitting with the Flames.

 

There was some warmth as I passed by.

from a caged dance, gas fed the coals.

It emanates waves that bend the window panes,

and lap the breeze, broken by a passerby.

It resumes with warmth contained in a parabola.

Quick reach out to them and bend the light.

It neglects the forms nearby,

to dance before windows and the trees.

 

The flame trades warmth with the orb. 

The waves ripple the branches that shape the trees.

Is it the wind that moves the flames and reshapes the leaves? 

No, not the wind nor the limbs that bend before the wave. 

It is the subtle change reflected in the glass.

Where heat before the limbs is the subtle change within scene.

It is subtle and the limbs are not.  They should bow, but they do not. 

It turned for the chimes to wait for due course.

 

It turns to what it knows best and feathers the branches,

and the limbs dance again in the windows with the waves.

It gave up to soon.  Cool shapes are favored in the glass. 

It has to choose, but can’t, the reflection be both limbs and glass?

I am not the flame, nor the shape that folds the waves of each chime.

They are stubborn both, now the glass wants to move and dance in the waves.

Share what you have in store before the chime again, it marks the time.

Tick-tock.  You can wait.  The flame will keep you company.