The Smell of a Fire

We are sleeping

The hazy Moon rests on us

a moment, restive, like all round things

The weak rain is around

it pats the dead leaves down

and they, exhausted, flatten

and quilt the ground

We are sleeping and will not wake

Even with moonlight on wet earth

that shines dully, not allowed to light

dismal air, or brighten our dim memory

Water finds the sleeping nymphs and drowns them

fondly, the same way lovers kill

Let's pretend we have awakened

We are sleeping on the old ground

the waning Moon rolls on, not distracted

by our tiny gravity of pretense

A small grove of trees, moonlit wet leaves

The time is long past when we would not

notice the chill, the dark, the slick slide

into the shadow of a vague setting moon.

We are sleeping.

Let's find a small dry home

and admire what things we may

The mist, the Moon, and the smell of a fire so far away

©2017 eolon