Flame Trees
The trees that exist in the flame
or maybe it’s the flame that exists because the tree allows it.
I keep circling that thought.
The tree that dies so the flame can appear, briefly, loudly.
I imagine the smoke moving upward, then back down again,
filling the lungs of the leaves that are still trying to breathe.
That feels wrong, or inevitable, or both.
Water comes to mind next.
The same water that feeds the tree, patiently, over years,
is also the water that ends the fire without asking questions.
Growth and erasure using the same language.
And before all of this, there was a seed.
Small enough to forget, slow enough to ignore.
It took years to become a tree,
and only moments to become flame.