sit awhile beneath
this furnace,
our Sol
feel its breath
hot like spicy
licorice, or
the aftertaste
of a mint julep,
a freshening heat
that makes you proud
to live on its
third rock
that makes you sweat
and bleed ideas
to ground, to creek,
to ocean
until they drop back
from cloud tops,
thought seeds
from which sprout
new, better
fresher hope