Soft, slow burn,
power and comfort in carbon.
Caramel-brown paper wrapped round
so perfect fold lines snake in circle,
a helicoidal progress
like Breugel's Tower of Babel,
beautiful spirals that crumble to ash.
But it's all just window-dressing,
accoutrement to accompany
the ever-approaching ember,
my smokestack flame, my guiding glow,
a signal flair for God.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment