Twilight Fire

With no lantern to tend to by the gate,
and all you revelers practicing far into the night,
and sleeping in late by choice and right ...
there is nothing for me but to tend the fire,
twilight fire, glowing embers of our soul's dreams.

faucon

.....................................................

BREEZE IN THE PINES

There is something about the fire of evening
that does not speak to reasoned mind,
nor nurtured spirit –
yearning soul? Impassioned heart?
no matter …
but I will sit awhile longer.

Valiant logs – so reluctant;
smoky start, snapping reply, tumbling fire rain …
yellow laughter and reddened tongues
in argument with inevitability…
now only blackened courage chunks
protecting
pulsing breaths of glowing death,
refusing to surrender wisdom
of cone and seed and darkened loam.

Yes, my friends – you go on ahead.
I’ll stay and make sure the coals are out --
drenched, finger cold, dead – dead …
stories untold, whispers unknown,
only because I cannot hear
or remember when
I was a tree.