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The First Fire

Small shards of Flint stone, picked from the quarry’s rubble Blacksmith-bent bit of iron, wrapped around my fisted knuckles Strike strike strike spark! Charred cloth poised to catch, glowing grows with gentle breath Introduced to fine fibered tinder, Suddenly aflame, yabba dabba doo! 20161024

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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Book: Shattered Sighs