CAMPFIRE, written in the 90s



the gentle blue wisp

of smoke curled

curious trails through

the green, tracing down

to the circle, a

set of coals, redfire

embers dying in

the midnight

mountain mist.


the distant glow is close now,

a warming fire of evening, strong

quiet voices, friendly eyes

dazed in the coals, camp

set for the night.


the rocks still warm

holding the morning ashes,

coals hidden under weightless

grey, the first stirrings

of the day, warm sleeping bags

too much so to leave, coffee

on the way, buried coals

still red, soft voices waking.