All I want is a little more
The push of winter
smoked and roasted, silverware spread
to the corners of every edge no matter how round or square
when my light falls deep,
in helm and sake of peace
we see the world wanting me
To throw my coins underneath the bed
underneath the gospel hymns, the beehive, or the white field
my light lingers in circles till it cooked
and ready to be served to feed the winter
the part of me
the soul of me
knell the bell, child