It was my observing brother, like a black cat through a meadow, like my befriended crow in the birch, who understood why we emptied ourselves for the flames. “You are making yourselves light as air….” he said, “…as the fire needs your blowing to get hot enough” he followed.

We build an oven from clay.

Fasted for five days.

Lit the fire after the last rays.

Into the shortest day of the year.

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