johnbyronkuhner.com

Bonfire tonight, in honor of the Prodromos, bright enough to be seen from the next mountain, I imagine.

I will add one of my favorite poems, though it is not for all:

Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird,
Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight,
Lark without song, and messenger of dawn,
Circling above the hamlets as thy nest;
Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form
Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
By night star-veiling, and by day
Darkening the light and blotting out the sun;
Go thou my incense upward from this hearth,
And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.

Emerson said of this poem by Thoreau, "It is like a poem of Simonides,"
(which is true), "but it is better than any poem of Simonides."
(Which is also true.)