On snowy wings,
the phoenix rises
above the rage
of burning cold.
Singed with frost,
diamond claws,
the ice of pinions,
scintillating.
Her long neck bows,
faltering,
at the stab
of heaven’s fire.
Too late, she cries
into the wind
her siren song--
snowflakes scatter.
Beneath the crust,
a circle steams--
to rise again
when winter falls.
About the Creator
Alison McBain
Alison McBain writes fiction & poetry, edits & reviews books, and pens a webcomic called “Toddler Times.” In her free time, she drinks gallons of coffee & pretends to be a pool shark at her local pub. More: http://www.alisonmcbain.com/
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