Candle Fire Seen Through a Honey Jar

Candle fire Seen Through a Honey Jar

Van Gogh painted fields

the color of this fire.

John the Baptist could have gazed

on flaming honey

lit by the desert sun.

Fire caught in glazed glass

splinters into shapes,

a luminous patch in the sky-

the nebulae.

Or this small field

becomes the tongues of lilies

flicking pollen to the wind,

or a harvest moon

through frosted glass,

the slight flame’s cosmic blaze

spun to a chain of gold.

West Indies lanterns held fireflies

and in some ancient place

the oily carcasses of animals

were strung with wicks

wild lanterns against the raven sky.

Once fire was sacred, tended

carried by nomads guarding coals.

Their hollowed stones held gold light.

The sun becomes a candle

through stained glass

and carves the windows of cathedrals.

I watch my honey jar, my lantern

with the candle beside it

bloom from the seeds of ancient fires.

The flame is the heart

the glass its ribs and bones

honey for oil, the moment a wick

that flames to catch the vision of the universe

in bits of amber glass.

Is the honey splintered into stars a vigil light