The fire ignites the oily wood
cracking and echoing
into the forest.
Infinite candled stars
glitter in the black staircase
above the trees.
There are whispers
in the Quaking Aspen
in the dark grass.
Faraway from the settlements
A Great Horned Owl
sings in the tallest Ponderosa.
With every hoot
he becomes a shadow.
The ghost soon stops?
as I enter
into the darkness.
I hear the fire behind…
Eating the pitch,
snapping and casting
orange ribbons of light.
Deeper and deeper
my footsteps go
into the black labyrinth?
creating excitement
mystery, courage,
tears, and dreams.
This was long ago.
It is still here.
Forever it remains.
Hey Nate, I don’t know if my other comment posted but I really like your entries. flagstaff and the forest what a great poem.