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Marcus Nordlund
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Wood and Fire
Mossy hill,
blackbird shrill.
Solitary birches,
pines, and junipers
distill the fading light.
Line and tarp,
hatchet sharp,
offering a shelter
that embraces as it
points you to the sky.
This is one of Nature's laws:
Take your time and time will pause.
Wollen socks,
tinderbox,
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rugged boots and
strips of bacon sizzling
slowly on the muurikka.
Whisky flask,
sherry cask,
sparks that crackle
happily in spirals as
they soar into the night.
The stars are out, the moon's awake,
something stirs upon the lake.
Time is stretched upon a pyre:
I am naught but wood and fire.
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