Original Poem 9: Untitled


there is a campfire
surrounded by bodies embraced
by the night’s touch of country air
there is a girl
who shivers in her cotton
warmed by light embers
there is a man sitting on a stump
who recalls cutting down
the burning wood with his son
there is a tree
standing no more than nine feet away
from the fate it has escaped
it hears its brother cackling in the flames
laughing, as the sparks tickle its bark
there is a proud little boy
egging on the fire
supervising its existence
there is a bucket of water
waiting patiently
to dampen the skin and calm the laughter


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