Some days require a campfire. I dragged the logs from the pile, split the wood, and poured breath into a fledgling flame. With hopeful glances, I furtively groomed the yard as the coals came to life, and words came slowly to the page.
  | Right now nothing is on my mind. I pet my dog, listening to the sizzling logs dry out and the flames twist in the air like an arrant flag contorting in the current. The chickens peck and flap and groom and tap dancing leaves roll across our mossy roof.  |
