I discovered phosphorescence one day
clearing pine needles from an acre plot
in the mountains. I raked and scratched
large piles, then became obsessed with the base
of one tree, raking harder and deeper until black,
matted clumps of needles came up to reveal a glow.
Fire, I thought, afraid for the forest. But no smoke,
no burn smells. There could be light without fire,
like that moment of warmth I mistook for fire,
a gentle touch on your arm that was light
and would be no more than that.
Copyright © 2024 by James Cervantes. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 11, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.
