There’s nothing quite like starting a fire
From the very kindling you’ve gathered
Shaved flakes of fresh wood
Because woodsmen don’t use paper
To start their fires.
Each piece of wood weighed and measured
To match each flames intensity
For in its time that fire shall get
A new piece as its fuel.
Handling an axe isn’t a light days work
It’s sharp, and heavy,
And you’ve really got to swing it hard
I you want any work done at all,
For your fire to get nice and tall.
Then as night sets in, darkness itself,
Warmth from your toil and support
Comes bellowing out
In calculated intensity
From within the fire you’ve set
And worked as a good night beacon.
Tag: flakes
Snowy Day Turned Warm (day 1631)
3D crystal nodes
Quietness
Slipping drip
Up and Up then Down We Go (day 734)
En isolato the clock ticks forward
Tick & tock it directs me onward
Pulling at societies: always awkward
Grasping hold of moments with lard
To fill the soul and clear the mind
Enjoying a well laid, plentiful dine
Did you reserve the right to dance
Alone along the south of France
I parked my boat and let it float
About the bay beyond the moat
Where mysteries remain
Amongst flowers and wild dames
I pull a cloak about my shoulders
Wrapped around my full mane
But can not moonlight keep me sane
When wild animals fight their bane
Surely I have myself some tame
Innocence that allows me to remain
And up and up and up we go
Falling down like flakes of snow
It’s letting go that pulls me up
Where rapid breath removes my glow