Complicated Reality

Searing, streaking, fire breathing

flock of squawking birds with seething

fire where they fly up higher than a shooting star.

Soot and cinder, snowing embers,

flares in air where dare they enter

dives that streak the skies entwined in lines of char.

Watch them set the clouds ablaze

vapor making rainbow haze

they play all day and fade away with the setting sun.

I wonder if they lay to rest,

in batches of black ashy nests

or if they are the stars recharging for tomorrow's fun?