FORGOTTEN CAMPFIRES
To stir the ashes
Of forgotten campfires,
Either long or short,
A slender, fragile
Stick of Time
Will do.
Set by moon-drenched water's edge,
In sun-splotched jungle glade,
Or high on windswept desert ridge
The vagrant dreams of youth
So long ago--
Our little, foolish, lonesome dreams--
Lie sleeping there
Amid the ashes.
Stir gently.
The stick must touch--But lightly.
Breathe on them once more.
Should embers faintly glow
And life again appear,
The dreams of old, now gossamer encased
(Web of wonder and delight),
Hold them softly,
Softly in your hands
Now trembling in the cold of time
Long spent away from dreams:
Until outbound
They swirl away
As dust.
William Ransom Wood
from his book, Not From Stone
This poet probably not well known amongst our group. My copy is inscribed to me by the poet. I have an entire shelf of signed books, but only two are by poets. They are among my most precious possessions. |
