Less emo, more joy. Life is good. Case in point, this past weekend. This poem just came to me tonight and writing it made me smile.
None More Tinder
©2010 Richard Saunders
On a blackened eve now
long since past, flint met steel in
haphazard bash as prodigious whim
sparked pitch to recast shadows
farther back.
Further back still, hands
did clasp sinew-wrapped bows
as they drilled to coax smoke to float
from smoldering coals.
In current terms, in modern conditions,
current turns refined fuels to urgent
ignitions as one lovestruck fool burns
for his companion's friction.
Fresh logs applied, we recline on a
sleeping pad beside the peeper-chorused
bog. Heavy lids can't hide the fires
we will light, nor the warmth two
twigs can find in each other's eyes.
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