I'm made of ashes,
after all. After all.
If my spirit hangs around
after the party, Life,
it will visit creeks
and forests--and bookstores,
if any should remain.
It will spend time, secretly,
with birds and women.
It will listen to old tales
told by foxes and herons,
horses, wildcats, turtles.
Always cold, it will long
for the heat and the light of the fire.
For after all, I am made of ashes.
I am made of ashes after all.
