Time lent my eyes the sight to trace
the faint blue outlines of sticks and twigs
among the pine needles that stenciled 
the earth between the trunks of the trees.
I bundled up those silhouettes 

and struck a match to force the light
from within the dimly shadowed shapes
and into the stark December air.
The fire invited the lifeless breeze

to join in its hot glow and pop,
to conflagrate and flicker out,
to live with it to die with it.

The fire, my Love, burned bright all night,
all night it warmed my frozen feet,

but by the dawn it had gone out.