today in a spring
that seems so much like summer
i watched through the vine-covered
crape myrtles
as the sun went down on the old white park mill
empty now lo these many years
but with a dark glow like banked embers
in the painted-over basement windows
until with a sudden phantom urging
the flames rose swiftly from basement to roof
and the walls the very bricks seemed to disappear
in a shattering burst of light
and i held my breath wondering if there would ever be
such a season again
everything conspiring to let go, yet remain
