Spring Like the Phoenix

Spring, like the Phoenix, rises from the ash of winter's fire, when ice and snow from frozen row were logs upon its pyre. The thaw will trickle moisture to each niche upon the earth. The liquid flame of water means a season of rebirth. The Phoenix lived for centuries while the seasons are our place. Our lives in hastened, fleeting years meets death once, face to face. So, when the waters grant new life our world takes on the sheen of bold and brilliant color showing forth so fresh and keen. Bright summer knows the vigor of each green and living thing: the creatures, all that walk or crawl, or soar upon the wing. Bold seasons see the great bird's crest as lustrous, bright and gold, but as the seasons cool and dry the Phoenix grows so old. His colors are still vivid for the shortened days of fall, but slowly piling twigs and leaves he readies for his pall. The harvest gleaned, cold holds dominion 'oer the late fall air, a sallow, aging, Phoenix seeks in earnest for his lair. The long and dormant winter binds all life within its chill. The once quite vibrant Phoenix lies upon death's pyre, so still. We long to see the Sun shine bright and wake our frozen earth, its fire means like the Phoenix we experience rebirth. Spring, Like the Phoenix 3-17-15 Iambic Heptameter