Empty Beer Bottles

Now and then, on my retreats into the trees, I find the ruins of what I assumed was a party: old fire rings and empty beer bottles.

Empty Beer Bottles

Empty beer bottles
rest in the ash
of a forgotten fire,

dead soldiers
slumped
on a battlefield’s

black skin.
The arching birch
bows in grief,

hopes to rekindle
the fire, the heart
that seethed

before this hush
and death.

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