To light a fire
Of gum leaves!
Pile them on a cold afternoon,
Windless of course,
Lit a match
And whoosh it goes
Merrily devouring
Its way through the boughs.
Devilish laughing fire spirits appear
Through the smoke and flames
Trying to escape and spread
The happy blaze.
But too soon,
Too quickly
It runs out of substance
And frizzles out
In the hurried freezing dusk.
Time to go home
To the warmth of domestic fire
Waiting for us in the fireplace.
Lucette C. Bailliet
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