A Different Kind Of Speaking

Any excuse for it.
A still night
A cool night
Company.
It’s been too long
Need time to myself
More than enough wood.

Or the light, a low
Flicker of yellow
And orange, warmth
That kisses my knees,
The smell of crackling
Smoke. Or the reflection
Of my naked face
In the flame,
Confronting me
With the hot blue
My ancestors had,
That holier men
Than I have,
But that I never will.