By Faith Rhodes
The colors of a summer night’s sunset,
engulfing a sphere. Sprinkles of sugar
fall of the sides of the spoon, dancing onto
the fiery soul. Once a soul full of rage, now calmed by the dancers.
Younglings purse their lips
when the sunset rests upon them.
A galaxy filled with their
enriching souls. Day by day,
one by one, plucked from the sky.
The summer mornings when I, too
was a youngling. My mother and I plunged
our spoons into the core of the sun. scooped out,
like ice cream, drops of the sun, dripping off
the spoon then streaming down the bowl. Once
the fire had danced on our tongues, we learned
What stars really taste like.