In blowing sand we lie waiting
Like moths in a rough cocoon
For a final swell of sunset to unbury
Phoenix in its vivid transpose of light.
Empress of ephemeral rising—
Summon perpendicular to the world
On wings of weightless fire
That brief, spun iridescence
Beckoning us to relinquish or desire
All the right things and resolve
The beauty that is possible,
The ease that wants love
