Accumulated Defense Poem by Barry Middleton

The fire has fallen on itself,
the earth beneath my back is cold.
I could get up to build some heat,
a firm foundation still remains
in coals that glow with ghostly flames.

Yet I have been alone too long
to ever believe a midnight fire
could compensate for what is lost,
my only warmth against the frost
that I have gathered to my bed
like one in unfamiliar woods
gone out to initiate the spring.

I've had a little bit of good
I gathered to myself for wood
and if a shoulder grows too chill
I know life means me no great ill
and no one is here to get alarmed
if my cold I turn onto my warm
and my warm I turn to heat the storm.