The forecast came
in an envelope of mouths
where stories paved

A broad (more or less)
stroke of nights and days
but the sun storm was delayed

I laid on the lawn
when crystals of lights
and beams floated on my form

I would have left
but the pleasure of solar sense
sunk me further into the earth

The kindled Koch shaped
quartz rays hit me
with random pockets of warmth

I was stranded
with my ember illuminated
intoxication, and photon folly

I was held
under a foot of flare
under blankets of bursts

This solemn untamed star
tucked me in
while I rested in fire

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Image source:
https://unsplash.com/@andremouton