Barefoot across Burning Coals

I don't believe for a second
that people walk barefoot across burning coals
and reach the other side unscathed.

I've never done anything of the sort,
but I imagine it would go something like this:

I would begin.
It doesn't matter how.
I would step on the ash
and avoid the coals.

Simple.

I would soon realize,
however, that the ash was hot too
and the coals were unavoidable.

In the midst of the searing pain,
I would need a new strategy.

It would be this:

At the risk of losing my feet
up to the ankles,
leaving cauterized stumps in their places,
I would make it to the other end.

And if I stumbled,
at the risk of losing my hands
up to the wrists,
I would make it to the other end.

And if someone then asked me
how I did it,
I would respond,
jumping up and down on two stumps and
waving the other two in the air:

I decided to.

Lost

"I thought I'd lost you,"
said the earth.

"Where would I go?"
replied the air.

"The moon could not hold me
and the sun would only use me."

"No, I could not go."

"Perhaps you mistook the wind
for my departure."

Maple Leaves Blushing

maple leaves blushing,
landing alone on a liquid landscape,
rushing,
converging within the outstretched arms
of a mill at the end of the run,

(even Feynman moved in only one direction)

blown over by the wind they once embraced,
turning faster and more uselessly
than ever before,

maple leaves trailing in their wake,
facing each other as if to say,
as they descend:

"... your satin robes are softer than mine,
your branching veins more perfect,
your gradients more subtle ..."

forward and forward,
up Escher's stairs,
endlessly

moving forward, turning corners,
moving forward, turning corners,
moving forward, turning corners,

but never ascending.