By dim-lit fire and flickering coals
We sit alone, between trees we rest.
I use a burning stick to cut off my pest,
A small tick lodged next to a red mole.
You light up in delight in the midnight,
I give you the remains of the small tick,
I give you the rest of the burning stick,
You burn with grand pleasure at the sight.
Into you I place my gifts, my sacrifice,
You take them in kind, warmth you lend
Such a fine mate, how fine a friend,
We sit here, leveling the cold precipice.
And beside your gleaming soul golden,
I bring my sheets and in them I fold in.