Price

The price is a secret great for this fate.

The cut runs deep like a canyon; invisible to all but the rain;

The rain can see; maybe that's why be

A never can; that I see

Any other way is too costly by me

So forever I see

Without you and me

It's okay by me

Has to be…

Birdlike

Perched, euphoric observatory at sea.

Light glimmers on peace's eye.

I preen; ease unravels me as berries drop from a breeze toward my open, eager mouth.

I am satisfied.

Burn

Ashes are demise that blows by the wind into circular shows remarking snow flurries on the finest Christmas morning.

How see as coal?

Can you not paint with them?

Is there not power in their bite?

Therefore; I would say…burns turn to ash, turning to the seeing eye's dissection of curiosity's possibilities.