Season of Warmth

Entrapped—
the coldness slumbers
behind the gates of brass,
and the breath of my nostrils
kindles
the summer air —

my heart ignites into bonfires
upon the saffron
grains of sand,
my flesh is flush with the radiant
crimson of the berries —

the season of warmth
has come.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

** image by Wikimedia Commons