it is too hot for the fire pit.
the anole sits at the edges
warming herself on the memories of burning embers.
or the echoes of the sun’s kisses.
we are all candles to each other’s flames.
it is too hot for the fire pit.
the anole sits at the edges
warming herself on the memories of burning embers.
or the echoes of the sun’s kisses.
we are all candles to each other’s flames.