Gentle mist at steep charge
Turns a biting cold
A quarter tank of gas means the world
Look after it with loving care
And fear it not empty
A friend
A good friend
An anxious icon
When flames escape the cauldron
And singe the ceiling
Black and beautiful
All possibility reduced to ash
And cinder
What relief
To find the charcoal failure
Filthy car
Reeking of bad habit
Waves and waves crash
So peaceful
Obliterates the onerous mind
Only pages
Turned in sublime fashion
Offer safe passage
Through fiery trials
And uncertain circumstance
Not knowing is the greatest gift
I have
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