written February 2008

I am the spark you held in

your cupped hands. You marveled

at my brightness because there

was so little of

me.

You were mightily afraid

that if you tried to

kindle me into a clever leaping

biting wonderful fire, you would

instead by accident

smother me to dust.

So —

you looked away

and hoped I would catch

and blaze on my own.

Now I burn and dance

and crackle and

I hope that I am big enough

to warm you if you are cold.