Campfire
CAMPFIRE
They’re in across the lake again
Can’t build a fire worth a damn
But the gasoline flare lights the shore for a moment or two.
Still, they do it year after year
There is some sense of continuity in seeing it each Summer.
I hope they keep it up.
I’ll never teach them to build it right.
And each Summer look forward to the sudden flare
And the eventual sparks and ashes
Climbing through the White Pine branches
Proof that the fire’s finally lit
And that another Summer is here.
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