It is you

July 13, 1982

It isn’t the green leaves

Flapping on the brown bank ridge

Or the cold or the vivid

Blue sky outlined

In white fluff,

It is you,

The fire flicks

Its orange lips

And I sit silent

A gray haze

Bubbling inside me

As I wait for you

From time to time I think

I see your blonde hair

Floating among

The tree trunks

Your face highlighted

By lantern or flashlight

Along the twilight path

But it isn’t you.

You sit beside

A furious red fire

At some far camp site

A pink face calm

In the external haze of smoke

Full of light and laughter

You, a yellow glow

Among the flames

I am orange embers dying

Blue sparks strolling

To reignite,

Hoping to burst again

Into vivid flame

Knowing in my heart

Old flames rarely do

My fire smothered

In smoke

From feeding it

Too much green wood
or wet brown bark

My smoke staining

The purity of the blue sky

My fire needing more than

Desperation to thrive

It needs you