in the fire
the smoldering logs sigh
a warm bath
outside the brimstone
and sulfur
the tents sit
thier old ways preserved
in the light of the campfire
till morning light
the will
sit
protecting the sleepers
respecting the forest
preserving the recreations
of yore,
where running and hunting
and swimming and playing
were in the wild free air
not the cloistering closets
of dimly lit living rooms
and dingy sleeping quarters
where tunnel minded children
focus
and forget the lovely air
the sight of flowers in spring
the falling leaves that change and twist
the pleasure of building snowmen
and
stay to lounge
in the brain dead misery
of technology.
buriberibata Community Member 
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