Ghost Pepper

jesus feeds the flockWhen it’s cold outside

I crave something hot

A porridge scalding and steaming

That I can breathe in and clear my sinuses

Tepid won’t do…

The only “just right”

On a frigid night

Is hot, hot, hot

I want to feel the burn

Know I’m alive

Thaw the benumbed digits

Quell the trembling inside

By a cozy fire I will lay me down

Smoke will rise as a sign

To travelers lost

Shelter is nearby

All are welcome

None denied

Stay the night

Sojourn in the morning light

I will tend the fire

And speak…

And listen…

In the spirit

For the silence


The orange/red/blue/white

hot crackling wood

like a Craftsman might smith words

or perhaps…

a carpenter would


to cooking fish.


Then again, life can sometimes throw us a curve ball…



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