A Man, the Color of Fire

In a dream I saw a man
the color of fire.

He walked bare and shining
across soft red hills.

He talked to God.

He moved his bright hands across his eyes
in a gesture of despair, a shimmer of dimensions
haloed where his hand moved
and lit his forehead as he walked.

Little dead birds littered the dusty ground,
the remains of birds
fallen from the dry thin air,
Preserved in dust
their feathers traced bright lonely halos.

They whispered goodbye to God.

In a dream I saw a man,
he was tall and burned like fire.