Arise, the surging flame of morning
ecstasy of vermilion blazing eyes
sees ships burn on dappled lapping sea,
armadas cast on island silver sand.
Mute multitudes bare witness
in flow and ebb to lighter shades.
Anticipating lethal oscillation,
looming large from clearing skies.
Rank by rank they fall and die.
Tossed awry in curved mutilation
to lie embraced. side by side
in windrows green and yellow.
Wind whips across a drying face
sucking seed and stem in spools,
to woven threads of scented gold.
Behold, Bosch’s passé triptych.
august piled in pillars high,
hunting hawks butcher blocks,
in dun and palomino shades,
winter forage from hay fields.
– Dave Kavanagh