Tending

A flame rises in the forest

Even in the sticky air

It glows a warmth of promise

And just as ease sets in

The flame wanes

A chill enters, a signal of diminishing

And the sobering reality that it can all fall apart

More space in between the wood

Perhaps a bellow, a deep belly breath

Time, to let it discern

And patience

And trust

That with tending, you will rise