Apocalypse

See the burning.
Redwoods explode reluctantly,
Chinese miracles,
red, on a red sky.
And the rain comes,
devouring what remains;
bitter rivers carving canyons in black hills.
Sudden judgment.

The flames are gone,
but a roar still rages
as you laugh
and laugh,
unaware of desolation
laughing hollowly with
you and in
sudden silence.

Apr. 1996