Monday, 30 November 2015

Campfire Scene

The clay pipe points at an angle, aligns with the tip of his elbow as he studies your face, reads your every thought as surely as you are reading this now. 

Bleached out flames fade one from the circle, 
two brass buttons punctuate his waistcoat. 

Another looks up from beneath the brim of his hat, 
shares some of the limelight.

Stare further into the scene, the trees and shadows to see the unseen.

Pines gather, spread resin scented breath: drop needles on the earthen carpet.

Snow on the shoulders of the message bearer, frost in the chill of his words where the circle, axes abandoned, slowly set to work to bring about a thaw. 

Shadows from the charcoals create a projectionist’s screen for eerie cinematography on the canvas stretched and propped on the angle of poles. 

The way in and way out is a black egg where, elbows on knees a snowy haired old-timer muses on the news, massages the message into the curls of his beard. 

Based on William Nortman's Campfire Scene

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