Poem: Kindred Spirits


Kindred Spirits

The fire is barely contained by metal and mesh,
a wild thing, for a time, held captive.

The heat reaches out.
Your tired soul is warmed,
a kindred spirit seeking its escape.

About this poem

Who among us hasn’t thought of selling everything and disappearing from the world?

Wild Thing by the Trogs is playing on the stereo at my favorite diner.

I vaguely remember being young. At times I miss being irresponsible.

From those things, this poem. The picture was taken in my back yard.


One comment

  1. “Wild Thing” by the Trogs, was the first 45, I bought, way back when……..
    Thanks for the memory, and oh yes, I have thought of dissappearing, a few times,
    in the past, to some place very, very quiet. 🙂

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