I have prepared the fore-sought fire, my friends,
in a practiced circle of ancient stones;
with needles of pine from a hollow log,
and inner-bark of a cotton-wood tree.
The lattice tiers swell from small to grand
such that a single spark will conflagrate
to warm the death-chill of hunt and wander,
and release the cloak-pin that bounds your soul.
The music will come with the ember glow,
and laughter asparkle with crackle and spark,
to lift your spirit on to Gypsy toes
as your flashing eyes will return to home.