Bonfire poem.jpg


I search you out amongst globes of brush fire
along the shore, silhouette blacker than black
right arm swinging kerosene
you move in and out of darkness
at the swamp, near the birch

you spent the morning dragging branches
into piles along the shore, old hat pulled down
slow steady progress

I watched you, willing each branch thrown
to the heap a line of poetry
no patience for building bonfires one stick at a time

you emerge from dark, pull me close
to the sting of heat, the cracking release
we watch a fiery confetti of sparks
snake-dance to slender orange ribbons
noodling up against northern sky

by morning only thin wisps of smoke eddy
from powdery ash dotted along the shore
your work done, mine waits on

© Annabelle Jane Murray