Stovewood Poem by Craig Steiger
Stovewood
We too
in the last view of things
are little more
than random bones of stovewood
We pass endlessly
into the fire
and sift back to earth,
utterly forgotten
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: fire,forgotten
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8/29/2026 12:32:22 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
