Ice-bitten toes
couldn’t contain the
excitement anymore.
They tip-toed out of
the heavenly comfort
of cushy covers on
hearing the feeble crack
of burning maple twigs
and litter collected
from the backyard.
While combusting,
the pops sounded like
curious kids asking
a hundred questions.
“why do we do this?”
“why do we do this,
at this time of the day,
why not in the evening?”
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