fire

Norfolk skies

Milky Way
the curl
of wood smoke

around the fire
the hush
of ash and snow

fireworks
beneath
the stars

campfire
sparks
Mars bright

crosslegged ready to light the fire

unpoked embers
noone asked
about my day

nightfall
around the fire pit
conversation flickers

moon almost full
my marshmallow
drops into the fire

hot embers
the hiss of raindrops
I can’t feel

huddled
around the fire
our cold backs

faces in the metro
petals
on a wet black bough
(Ezra Pound)

legs in the sauna
raw sausages
in the hot pan

fallen leaves
burn once more
in the fire

even
a perfect fire
needs a poke

*the pagan festival of spring, celebrated with huge fires, tribal drumming and naked, painted dancers