Small brown lizards with
Pop up eyes rotating as
Bright little green orbs
Squirted out of the bricks
Surrounding my fire pit
Set around the burning logs
In this fossa formation were
Two empty rocking chairs
Gently rocking in the dusk
From a steady breeze that
Sweeps across this drought
Stricken valley basin floor
These rounded wood chairs
Each rock now in tandem
And then in synchronization
With the swirling blades
Of my antique ceiling fans
On the beams above my patio
Empty vintage rocking chairs
Swaying like two ghosts who
Were sitting there cooling off
After a heated discussion
I gaze up at clear blue skies
Sprinkled here and there
With wispy feather clouds
Turning pink then red at dusk
And wonder why I haven’t
Joined them yet, but then
Maybe the rover did find
Glass on Mars and I would
Like to know just where
It came from first before
My wild fire light goes out
Paul Frederic Kacer July 2015