We only love each other from afar…
stories reveal themselves,
songs are made up or remembered
spirits are dancing around us.
potatoes are cooked in foil,
hot cocoa sipped
slowly, or not.
embers are red and hot
at the end of sticks.
the heat on our faces,
the smell of fire in our hair and clothes…
the night draws in early
and we stay out in the dark
sat around an autumn fire
trying to hold the warmth of summer back
in our bare hands,
trying to make it stay longer…
tonight feels like a summer night
even if Samhain is just round the corner,
regardless of the season
The fire never, ever…
quite goes out.
he is out and about more often at this time of the year,
especially at dusk.
his face is the stream that runs through the park,
his body is a tree trunk.
he proudly wears leaves as his crown
for he is the king of his own kingdom.
moss runs up along his sides,
his beard is made out of hair and feathers
from the animals who live there.
his eyes are deep and profound,
for they hold the promise of the night.