. . (written in 1969)
.
Popping, I leap
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from log to stick
toasting the bark
and frying the pitch.
I play on the edge
of a branch and I grow
bigger and stronger
I flicker and flow.
Watch out for your fingers,
I’ll stretch out to taste them
while crackling and snapping
my very own rhythm.
I’ll warm up your room
till it’s cozy and bright,
then leave behind coals
glowing red in the night.
.
© 1969, “Living Color” 1976, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright
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