They run 'em nights burning flames
Around the evening fire that long owned fame
With the trepidation of light escaping shadows
Shooting sparks the horizon adores
Wood bundles riding onto heads of maids
To light the flame that vacuum the thoughts for beds
With the twilight that doth with them come
They run 'em nights burning flames
A ring of skins make the light waves out phase
With the jealousy winds that whine to stop the blaze
Like a pilot flames run 'em nights
A small version of what daily brights
Tales diffuse through the smoke that gossip
High knees, mouths welcoming a jar that settles on the bottom lip
For with the glow, darkness fulfils none of its aims
As they run 'em nights burning flames.
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I just enjoy the campfire, burning my front with a chill wind on my back. I can't imagine the countless generations that only had this warmth and protection in the cold and dangerous night. It always brings chills when I think of it, and how they survived to be me… So far removed from that primitive way of life for thousands of years.
Ron
I don't understand your culture well enough to grasp the setting.
But you are well on your way to a future with poetry that few of us will ever know.
Sandie