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.