There was an awkwardness, a clumsiness <br />about the manner it had chosen to progress <br />through simmering heat of what is called Death Valley, <br />while dreaming of the Napa Valley and its wine. <br /> <br />It thought, most of the time, of self as tumbleweed <br />which had a modicum of class attached, <br />and when the day was done and the horizon <br />had bathed itself in stunning sunset glow <br />it often visualised a life as one big ball of fire. <br /> <br />If only to command respect, so sorely lacking, <br />no creature gave the spinifex a second glance. <br />At best it was a nuisance to the foxes <br />who dodged when chasing rabbits and the like. <br /> <br />One sentimental afternoon of cloudless skies <br />saw brilliant red just hover in conceited glory, <br />and spinifex did pose to catch the fiery rays. <br />A sudden trance descended quickly from above, <br />and so it stood, so still the wind had come in vain, <br />a picture of such beauty, crown of gold, <br /> <br />when, casually, a passing motorist flicked out a Camel <br />still lit and glowing with its own internal life. <br />The desert heard no cries, it felt no fear. <br />There was no sudden rush to beat which was ordained. <br />Only the awesome sight of something utterly spectacular, <br />a wish was granted, it went out inside a great <br />big ball of fire.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ball-of-fire-2/
