some kind of permanence
a ****** in the
woods

slow decomposition
tender restoration

it's place a drift
as if
coalescence made it
float through trees

within. the charcoal maker
the makers wife
and scurrying creatures
with feet and paws

without. smoke. wisps of
first industry leading to
harvested piles seasoning
by breathing clamps.

points of turf covering
designed stacks. an inferno
strangled by it's master
briar hanging loosely
tasting tobacco while listening
for betraying crackles and looking
for beacons of yellow showing as cracks
in dried earth.

fire here is burning money.
burning time

they have none to spare

behind him stacked in sacks
charcoal dry and ready for
Jack the cannon maker.

where finally the fire suppressed by
the maker would burn in forced
air with anger enough to
melt iron. Blast the sky with
sparks and toast Jack's leather.

in the woods the smoke rise and fell
while the master
vent
seals
vent
seals

the whispering clamps
in a clearing.