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.