coming out of ground
inside old boxes embers glow
building roses out of ashes
and lightning strikes
crashing cymbals introduce
a new species of climbers
busily hurrying to reach the sky
zeroing in on unknown territory
you wish to go with them
but as a mere mortal
all you can do is wave
and blow kisses
praying and hoping
they’ll find their way home
september two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
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