Fire At Midnight

I believe in fires at midnight
when the dogs have all been fed.
A golden toddy on the mantle -
a broken gun beneath the bed.
Silken mist outside the window.
Frogs and newts slip in the dark.
too much hurry ruins a body.
I'll sit easy, fan the spark
kindled by the dying embers of another working day.
Go upstairs: take off your makeup -
fold your clothes neatly away.
Me, I'll sit and write this love song
as I all too seldom do -
build a little fire this midnight.
It's good to be back home with you