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As the Sparks Fly Upward
As of an ungrounded grief, Bluish sparks fly upward from Under the shadow-thickened, Tree-covered part of night toward What can yet be construed as Dimmed azure, while the summer Glow of soft streetlamp light hums Along the wide sidewalk through Listening leaves: fireflies Far from the sea rise in an Untroubled-looking midland, Soundless, their gaps in the dark Soundless, and the thunder soon Coming with a crash across Glistening eaves will be no Answer, echo, or noisy Amplifying of echo. I will await what the ground, The great, grass-skinned ground, will say.