For the small moment
You did it,
rekindled the small boy scout fire,
Had fun, for a time,
Were occupied
Stoked and prodded.
Handy to have more than wood to burn.
It was not enough to last
Through the cold night.
The steam and smoke billows and blows out.
The rain sidles in with heavy
Clouded feet.
Light becomes heavy
And I reminisce over
That time we shared this manmade heat without duty
Or blame,
Was love.
Togetherness said nothing
To explain or justify its purpose
Save
Sharing the warmth emitted from
One another.
My cheeks redden for other reasons
Than blood boiling laced with whiskey
See, we don't see
The same
Pleasure or Pain
Under heat, inside pressure, cold edges and sharp sounds
like sticks piled inside the stone hearth,
a resonance is echoed in our porous bones.
There is a classical tune
Evoking
Times past and a comfort
that stays
Lost in our presence.
Painting by John George Brown (1831-1913) 'Camp in Vermont' c. 1879 in Public Domain.
