I’m in a hurry,

starting a fire with minimal fuel

worn, old and wet.

There is no quick effect,

spoiling what I want.



for the moment,

longing for the fire, heat

longing for the sound

of the flames snapping it’s fingers

amber glowing.

Hickory on my clothes,

you know where I’ve been

under the crescent moon.


20 Oct 08

Dave Barber

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