Darkness cloaks
like a curtain slowly drawn from east to west
until the sun is no more,
and a drapery of stars sets the background.
It’s there, in star-lit darkness,
that the frantic pace slows.
A campfire burns.
Periodically, smoke billows.
We talk in hushed tones
about the day past,
about tomorrow
and more tomorrows to come.
We’re warmed,
by the fire,
by our dance of stories;
some new,
most from the fabric of our shared past.
Told, reexamined with wisdoms of our here and now.
The past never stands alone.
The future is not a blank slate.
Now and then our dialogue is punctuated
by the task master in one of us.
“Should we walk the dogs?”
“Did you call the insurance company?”
But, as the fire dwindles and one or the other of us asks
“Put on another log?”
we leave the questions behind
to once again talk in hushed tones
about tomorrow and tomorrows.
~ Maryann Schroder