Clouds, Magic Fish and Candle

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Clouds
(by S.L. Pancoast)

In the wind the blossoms blow,
like fragile bits of meltless snow,
that cluster on the crooked limbs,
and fall from tree-top clouds,
till forming petal drifts below.

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Magic Fish
(by S.L. Pancoast)

You cannot see the water
from the edge of the woods,
but when sun glints on the river,
bits of silver shine through the leaves
like magic fish caught in a green web.

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Candle
(by S.L. Pancoast)

Soft below the flame,
like wax of candle,
I puddle and drip down
into candle-drops,
collected like cherished
scraps of memory,
and gathered again
to form candles anew,
like trees grown new
from seeds of others,
and galaxies grown
from dust of stars,
perhaps the phoenix
has the right of it,
and I am like
wax of candle,
soft below the flame.

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Close the Silvered Scroll The Runes of Silver

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