Reenactment
the sparks dart too quickly for human eye
we are left with but flashes of an orange-yellow hue
in the night
the cider steams from an iron kettle in the fire
and we stamp our feet and blow in our hands
trying to pretend the night chill doesn't bother us
the stars shine too brightly for human eye
we mark their radiance against the fading firelight
in the night
they seem so near and so unchanging
unlike this uncertain life we hold in our hands
trying to pretend the lack of constancy doesn't bother us
the torch burns too quickly for human eye
we must be satisfied with lingering embers left behind
in the night
the silhouette of sentries, the disquieting shadows of trees,
trying to pretend this discomfort doesn't bother us
for we are home
Copyright © 1998, Jane Ellen. All rights reserved.
Published by the International Library of Poetry 2001.
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