The earth was bashed together from rocks,
The bunnies of dead stars’ dust, stark raving sparks
Thrown when the burning universe broke.
Writes in pencil and crosses out in ink.

In my garden, I pull the maples
That come each spring. I imagine your narrow heel
Printing an old message by the pile.
   I learned
That fire spreads to the smallest scrap of fuel.
22 April 2008
With thanks to the members of the Gazebo who helped me improve the poem.