Up In Smoke

Climbed to rooftop,

found warm chimney,

perched as bird might do,

darted eyes,

questioned skies,

inhaled for breath of you,

Remnant fire,

 cloud wisps gathered,

having heard the plea,

cushioned flight

‘cross endless night,

taken so to thee.

No more lair,

as fox once was,

timid, shelter found,

burrow’d fear

from hostile hounds

hunted to the ground,

till tortured route

to higher plain

lent a diff’rent view

from chimney pot,

where dreams are wrought,

disembodied fox, smoke flew.

 

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Up In Smoke”

  1. Should diembodied fox, smoke flew be disembodied fox, smoke flew?

    It’s a totally brilliant line! And a brilliant poem. Love this sort of almost surreal poetry – like there is another shape it’s defining that can’t quite be made out.

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.