A Villanelle: To A Cigar Poem by Richard Blanch

Rising through the coolness in a lazy dream
Of deepening dusk shines the comfort of burnt leaves-
Smoke is its soul, fire its body’s gleam.

Flame lit this spirit for us. Thoughts that teem
The evening through fold their hands in peace that weaves
Rising through coolness in a lazy dream.

Here on the square is quiet speech, the cream
On the night’s coffee. Strange what it achieves:
Smoke is its soul, fire its body’s gleam.

O the brown moments of a cigar! A theme
For music: these are our score’s long semibreves
Rising through coolness in a lazy dream.

You know I hold you, sir, in such esteem-
Tobacco’s priest, sharing what your heart believes:
Smoke is its soul, fire its body’s gleam.

This cold stone temple channels our life’s streams;
Our fragrant sacrifice shimmers in its eaves
Rising through coolness in a lazy dream.
Smoke is its soul, fire its body’s gleam.