Brief Splendor

Falling through our orbit, falling, falling
an Icarus from past the planetís ring
shooting through dark and empty space

The hot embraces of the sun
have turned its ice to gaseous flames
streaming in pennants through the night

Waking before the sunís first light
I huddled in blankets from the chill of spring
searching the eastern quadrant

For the brilliant smear
falling, falling


Lari Smith