Glass on Mars

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