Wood Stacks - June 23rd

June 23, diarystyle to edit...

Wood stacks

Wood stacks along the beaches for St John,
for luck, for the summer months to come,
for the little boats fishing lines home – families
build fire beacons on their patch of sandy turf,
throw the sand, wriggle toes in surf,
and gather, eat together, throw the dog a bone,
sundry tomatoes in the first rays of summer.
Sunset is falling a shawl around shoulders
in just peachy pink blaze golden wands of warmth!
Let it be tassels, frays, and knots in big soft dots
swirling on a sky’s silky stretch. Let it be
wrapped in dusk’s sweet breath. Darkness.
Strike the match; tinder kindling ignites tongues
burning a fallen tree - roots and the juice
of hardwood fizz, and eyes of pine pop to ash.
A scent, a last glance in oils - Midnight,
Madrugada - we jump the fires
and find the open arms of friends flicker
like flames warming the embers of a hug.
Never-ending hellos farewells lots of love.
Madrugada, Midnight to morning, couples walk
the hot coals, volcanoes dream of the last time
they were floating candles - each island alight
- fire circles sparking a display for the stars.
The fires burn for walkers until dawn
for all to taste the tequila air – salt, lime;
flames lick wet legs, heat thighs,
and before bedtime fireworks bouquet the sky.
Before dawn, each an island alone,
under sky, or tucked up snug at home,
resting on a shoulder, curled
around the heated stones, still
the sea rolls, still it ebbs and flows.