cool flame

The bush next door
has ignited again:
the leaves at the top
turned red a week ago,
and again the idea caught on
and has spread downward
a good storey and a half,
until only the bottom leaves
are green.

I had thought to express
my concern to my neighbour;
after all, a flaming bush
is no minor matter:
millennia ago
it shook the world
into belief.

See it in his back yard
almost swallowing
the wall of my garage.
It seems to be speaking
to me, but although I don’t
understand the words,
I get the message:
it’s going to get cold
before it gets warm,
and that could mean
anything.

Somebody said
“If you speak to God,
it is called prayer;
if God speaks to you,
it is called schizophrenia.”

All I’m saying is
that’s one mighty
red bush out there,
and if I read it right,
or heard it right,
somebody should
be listening.

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