To Build a Fire

Shuffle with determination to plod.
Make deep cuts with feet along the path because the snow is so deep.
Night brings with it wolves and dark.
This man brings dogs and light.



So many matches—no matter,

The needles won’t stop. And neither will dog’s self-preservation.
Cold coal after cold coal and hands stiffen.
Try after try and hearts weaken.

Moons cut spirals into skies; trees carry empty heat
To catch his fingertips in disrepair.
Building things seems so easy—with the right tools, anyone can build a fire.
With the right intent, any flame can be beckoned forth to curl and to lick.

Winter sets a path, though. Winter sets a path.
Hands stiffen and hearts weaken.
His dog takes one step away, thus the vacuum sets pace.
And the fog breathes a forecast for no more fight.



And the hills bound along and roll into furling white.
And the dogs whip through trees like birds in flight.
And the wolves wait for the moon to lose its clear sight.
And the glows glisten as if they’ll never lose their might.