Heat

The heat of the night
rolls through the body
like fire on the edge
of new fuel rapidly approaching
spring on the prairie.

There is no stopping the wave
that must consume the past
in order to make way
for the violent green
that sleeps under the surface
of earth.

You have no idea
of the giant that wakes
from winter,
the glacial cracks booming
in the bones
of unconditional love.

The air ignites
with crimson
at dawn.
The first drops of water, bloody,
sizzle then evaporate
into mist.