Fire-Logs

←Chicago Poet

Cornhuskers by Carl Sandburg Fire-Logs

Repetitions→

NANCY HANKS dreams by the fire;
Dreams, and the logs sputter,
And the yellow tongues climb.
Red lines lick their way in flickers.
Oh, sputter, logs.
      Oh, dream, Nancy.
Time now for a beautiful child.
Time now for a tall man to come.