Limbs and Leaves and Black, Black Smoke

limbs and leaves and black, black smoke
behind the house, back near the shed
near, warm, but not too close

stinging eyes may seek some ghost
though with no right to tread
limbs and leaves and black, black smoke

far away one humble host
brewing coffee near the bread
near, warm, but not too close

where winds unnatural timely blow
no thought in fall my eyes to dread
limbs and leaves and black, black smoke

as stinging eyes the tongue too knows
to sip or stare will turn them red
near, warm, but not too close

one taste to find, what force to show
what bellows in the craftsman’s stead
limbs and leaves and black, black smoke
near, warm, but not too close