Poetry 2017 / Spring 2017 / Volume 48

Balefire—Denton Loving

The crimson king maple blows in high winds, burns with October’s beautiful death. Before my confused eyes, leaves piled at the tree’s base form wings, take flight and fall upwards. A reversal of everything I know. These small, light birds flash grayish white undersides before disappearing into the crimson king’s flames.   Maybe they are … Continue reading