Die down fire, die down…
drip down big dipper’s handle –
star shot gazer holes of a sky bucket –
drains a milky way of all it’s stardust light.
Arrowhead dirt –
wild-eyed deer run –
rising agate platter mast
in a polish of natural selection–
a stone merging binge
into midnight soil
tilled pregnant with wheat seed.
Absinthe-minded eras
begun at year’s end –
neutral Holy Grails appear
at random intervals,
twice enlightened –
charmed a third time.
We see burning light fall overhead –
succumb to gravity shifting under foot –
a sentimental silent sound released.
We tamp the coal,
twirl into passion’s kiss
as if the fragrance of earth has come
to make us whole again –
Die down fire, die down…
© Nublin’s Pub, 2008
Author notes
another Montana moment with Mrs. B - one moment in 25 years of marital bliss.
photo - http://ipneto.deviantart.com/art/camp-fire-at-rachelles-86023750
A contest entry
- The Art of Wife by Ea.
700 points, ended May 31, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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There's nothing like stars, campfire and companionship... lovely. I hope the fire never burns down.
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and a lovely moment this is - as I am partial to campfires and night skies, this is right up my alley. Sounds like romance abides by the fireside in the 25th year - nice!
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Fascinating read, very romantic, I'm glad the random read thingie brought me here!
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