The fire burning high and bright,
a new companion telling tales,
an old companion at your side,
the night-time calls of whip-poor-wills.
A new companion telling tales,
a mug of tea in warming hands,
all pressure off of cooling heels,
sweet solace from the trail’s demands.
If tea is spiked warms more than hands,
a voice may raise in joke or song,
till eyebrows droop with night-time sands,
the fire smolders low and long.
No more a voice no joke or song,
the fire mere memory of bright,
snores help next leg of hike along,
dreams test the tales tomorrow night.
Keith David Parsons (he/his) is a citizen-poet on the run from the law, yoga aficionado, and a stan without a country. Born in West Virginia, USA, between a crick and a hollar, he now lives in Washington, Douglass Commonwealth. @Kristophanes on Twitter/Facebook, keithdavidparsons on Instagram.
Latest posts by Keith David Parsons (see all)
- Trailfire - 14th May 2021
- White Mountains, Ten Hues - 11th December 2020