Ignore it, then,
or blow it out—
the end will be
the same.
But when we set
the kindling right
under a dense and
dry
pile of twigs and
gently blow
the sparks before
we stack
small branches on
and then thick limbs
and rest to feel
the heat,
soon the blaze
will gorge itself
spit embers at
our feet
slash its blue
teeth where we wish
and places where
we don’t--
then we will
understand some things
those less
patient won’t:
Time and only
dry, dry brush,
not much of a
flame.
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