No smoke, no bright Hudson Bay
colored stripes, stirring flames,
we look outside to gray silhouettes
of ridges hazed away, still dry
and waiting for any kind of rain.
Oak leaves and twigs in the dark,
split cordwood aflame, you kept
the coals alive for a week, ready
for warm words anytime of day.
You are forever exposed there
in the camera of our minds—
huddled together stirring flames.
for Jess & Bodhi
drycrikjournal 