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Emily at the Campfire

an Elegy


Southern pure and railroad poor

Her hamlet flung her like a fastball

Fully expecting by catchers hand or bat her return


Wild Turkey fueled talk reveals the geometry of our lives

Her stories poetic - simple as Frost - American as Whitman

The fire we sit round lights the journey through each


Burning truths we have come to know

The star covered night becomes our roof

And by histories discover each other


Religion eases into her life again

As she begins to leave me

On that fearsome arc of returning


While mine still waits at the door

Her fire dimmed to ashes becomes

An elegant star to light my way

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