Phoenix

A wounded bird,
With an aching heart,
Calls into the night.
The late winter sky,
Moans in reply,
"Your wings are too weak for the flight."

The glowing moon,
With a contemptible glare,
Dared the bird to try.
Talons stretching,
Will - Unflinching.
He mustered the courage to fly.

The battered red bird,
Steadily soared through the sky,
Dancing to the moon's cruel song.
The phoenix approaching,
The moon encroaching,
Far from where it belongs.

From behind the moon,
A terrible burst of fire,
The sun presented its wrath.
Flames engulfing,
Terror resulting,
The eclipse devoured all in its path.

The vibrant sun,
Overcame the silver moon,
And devastated the courageous bird.
From head to foot,
Reduced to ash and soot,
The bird's song could no longer be heard.

Warmth,
Like a dream,
Wafted over him.
Phoenix emerging,
Spring burgeoning,
Winter's light has grown dim.

Spring's arrival,
The annual rebirth,
Showers us with calm.
Nature awakening,
Sun rejuvenating,
The Phoenix rises with the dawn.

By: Amanda C. Haury; April 2011