Smoke follows beauty

Wind skips off drifts of snow,
whips campfire flames to life --
smoke chokes me then shifts
for you. It follows beauty,

I say; you twirl and dance
Montana April camping damp.
Birch twigs crack, snap, burn bright --
then retreat, smolder, hide,

yield to winter not yet thawed.
I am quick, bend low,
puff coals turning back
to black, aglow. Wisps of smoke

search for you, whirling off --
embers left behind turn cold
when a branch of snow
lets go.

Timothy Pilgrim