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waterfalls, paroxysms of cool sensuality,

sing so eloquently, so lustfully,

rushing deep, sounding of desire

forestlands and mountains,

enshrined in the misty morning

by haloes of rainbowed light,

sing more peacefully, oft accompanied

by a fresh, trilling stream

and the endless daylight chattering

of birds and squirrels, seemingly content

to squabble little lifetimes away

haunting winds,

so frigid and austere,

leaving all frightened, feeling alone,

huddled in the evening chill,

kept even from the thought of warmth

memories primitive and taboo

emerge, unbidden, from the gloom

'til the sun's return...

                the Eastern Phoenix!

heralding another diurnal trial

                by fire and ice

- T. H. Keyes

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