A Woodland Night Poem by Barry Middleton

My childhood ramblings were so long ago,
and time obscures the traces of the past.
The sun no longer burns in afterglow,
but leaves a mark that always tends to last.

At sundown I behold the selfsame stars,
that congregate like fireflies in the dark.
I still may find the russet haze of Mars.
I hear the song of whippoorwill and lark.

And deep within the woods on any night,
I'd often stop to build a rustic fire.
I'd wandered far from home without a light.
The sparks that rose were offered to the briar.

That is the clearest image that I see.
It's like a statue someone carved in stone,
where night and stars and fire would comfort me,
where I might hide in peace and yet alone.