Recall to me the stories of the night.
Black, fragrant pines weave curtains
all around
as tribe huddles empty belly to the fire.

Beyond my back chill eyes watch,
ears of foreign spirits listen to the tale
told by tooth gaped mouth,
of danger and of safety,
of lean and full,
of love,
of fear.

The stories live forever in the
breath of gentle flame which
softly kisses hand that lays
dry wood upon the center of
the light.

Fairy's garment
streams behind, long
hair cascades,
tooth gaped mouth calls
stories from the flame.
Forever, eyes reflect the gleam.
Yes.

(not sure who wrote this or when? – Ed Covannon? – an anonymous contributor? – ^z)

(correlates: VidIocy, BirdlessSilence, RadRobReMichaelDirda, ...)