Algonquin

by systole

Posted to Poetry on 2001-10-09 00:06:00

You started the fire after the rain.
Covered in dirt, watery eyes, blowing gently
while the wind’s breath painted us
with smoke from the wet logs.

I chopped vegetables with my swiss army knife
as you poured wine into tin glasses.
Shadows danced on the lake and surrounding trees,
celebrating the crackling heat in the fading night.

We ate like royalty, happy to be the first ones there,
fooling the bugs, who eat campers for sport.
Smiling into the night, rosy cheeks and cold noses,
the crickets sang us to sleep




The Literary Kicks message boards were active from 2001 to 2004.