Candles Burn Out
Two silver hands rising from the lake
of wood, fingers lightly clasping
the tapered arms reaching like the aspen
trees in fall, the way their leaves shake
alive with light, forest dancers blazing–
or miniature suns, or passionflowers
incandescent as the stars and trembling,
waiting for the match, those lucent hours.
only Love, that Light, will stay intact
as we blow out like candles in the wind.