How A Man Builds A Fire

First, he searches the heavens

Full of stars and darkness.

Second, he pulls a birdnest

from a low empty bough.

Third, he pulls from his pocket

a book of matches

and from a single match

he draws a flame and with

That flame he coaxes

From that empty house of wrens

A fire in his hands he then nestles

Within a circle of stones

On the frost-limned ground

Where soon there is a conflagration

Where before there was nothing

And I cannot help but think

Before he reenters the woods

To round up more fuel

Maybe he'll make a fire

Out of Me? as I rise

To take his hands in mine

and lead him into the shadows.