You dragged the sea-bleached driftwood from the shore
drawing a line up the middle of the beach.
Bringing a whole city of strange creatures
along for the ride on their bone white ark.
Carefully picking of horseshoe crabs and
earwigs and muscles older than you.
Placing some down gently and some into
the pan – for our supper. You scoop the ark
up into your arms and offer it to
the flames. They accept it gladly and roar;
a feverish chorus of cracking and
flickering and crackling and licking,
devouring up our offering, and
in the heat, the log splits loudly in two.