I walked along the bitten shore

with fire lapping at my feet.

As dusky malice shone above

The towering reeds, my eager eye

Saw its first delightful sight, a

Stump, gnarled and smooth, roasted dry.

How long had it waited, seeking

To be found by one such as I?

This log, this hunk of weathered wood

Reflected the harsh rays of days

Gone by. I rushed to meet my friend

But with a honk, it flew away.