Camp

My fire,
 my little fire,
  I tend, tend, tend to you.
You are not ablazin’ o’er the earth,
 but you are enough
  to crackle with heat,
  to sustain a heart,
  to provide a hearth,
  to roast marshmallows over,
  to lick the ribs of embers
   with quiet flame,
  to entrance me into a reverie
   of my inner mysteries.