Fires Of Late Evening Poem by Felix Bongjoh

At late evening,
Everybody returns
To the swelling house,

The wind sweeping
Through now
With galloping horses
To a campfire

In the backyard
Growing new gold flowers
Of tall flames.

Returning children
From desert stretches
Of dead playgrounds
Stomp up
The staircase
With panting breath.

But their croak
And cackling chirps
Swell no whistles
And grunt,

But ignite a louder fire
Of visiting children
Tuning themselves in

To a fire of stars
And a new moon tossing
Off beams on faces

To stretch out silver
And ivory flowers
On sun-lit children
At late swelling evening.