Crying Embers' Magnitude

The glass of the wilted Earth shatters the potent sea,
taking sobbing Embers from their shore, littered with ash,
charred leaves and dust.
August gale, blow from the East, take rope and wind-it-round,
around their belts and flinty tears, convulsion of rock,
metal and crust.
First nadir, then zenith, first my yang, and then my yin,
hidden lava trailing pale, white marble,
distance from the wind's discover.
The stealthy glass of the observer's wonder,
controlled by her hand, the Embers' mother,
snuck this sanguine, rosen slit.
Pinched from the glass's sweet, frozen kiss.
© 2005 Arianne Watson