People walk past the open gate then stop
turn and look back into the flame, see
me beyond in the garden chair and glow, and
assuming I'm in control, walk on to let the
fire burn. In the time from dusk's first lit match
to these embers of rotted old wooden pallets,
the full moon has risen above the shed so that it is
wholly in my late night line of sight, shimmering
though in the heat haze from the bonfire and
flecked by rising red ash before it is snuffed out.
But why I am disturbed when hearing the sound
later of others I do not see moving straight to their
cars to drive away, not pausing to care or notice
the red hot glow still scorching our ground?