In my field, I built a fire today
Dried alder leaves, molding fence posts,
Fagots.
A grain sack filled with orange twine.
Careful armloads of dried thistle
Added to the heap.
Beneath, rocks, grass, and neat dung.
Above, a clear blue sky and circling red-tailed hawk.
The late summer foal was curious
How orange flames could blossom
Into black floating feathers
Blue purple puffs of smoke spiraling
Over her stiff-legged cautious stance
Her plume of chestnut flame flicking
At the excitement
Of sudden heat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem