fireside

Late last night, after two days of rain

a friend came by to build a fire and

talk around your new fire pit

Wet wood won’t burn

so you add charcoal fluid

paper scraps and old cardboard

Hoping a fire will catch and burn

water and sap sizzle and pop

flames dance and smoke rise

You talk of a master blacksmith who works

in the mountains of Asheville and pounds

metal ingots with arms as big as tree trunks

You talk of a friend who retired to a mountain top

in Vietnam, manages a hotel, teaches English online

to Chinese students and designs websites

You talk of life, of moving on, of social media

of Hamilton and Adams and the future of America

of writing and writers, of 2020 and beyond

You stir the dying embers

carry chairs inside and throw

smoky clothes in the washer

12-15-19