By the Solstice bonfire
I pulled him aside and told him about the colors
The colors of spontaneous remission
He the adjuster of bones listened
While the fire fed on the darkness
Of our annual lost-and-foundness
Our circle much enlarged
All of us were there for one thing
And one thing only
Gazing into the fire
So long as I am you are we
Are just like children here
I'll tell you how it all got started
(Have you noticed how that old tree
Poised in the fire-glow seems to want
To be photographed and shared)
The reach of the fire is astounding
The flames come apart
Like a wing separating from the body of a bird
As if flight were more important than life
And as I told you my story
Our faces were refreshed by the fire
You, joint-healer, bone-mender, husband and father
Me the old poet dream-worker, husband, father, son of my father
Me out of work can you believe it But no matter
We both know something that the other craved
For surely just as the fire reaches up
A vortex spirals down
And out of this elision of realities comes remission
The story starts when the old raven came to me
When I was still partly raven myself
Just when I was about to climb down into the human world
It was then he fixed his gaze upon me
And then I got sick and forgot what he told me
And later there were the colors and I found myself
Holding a baby and weeping and I was well
And I was human as ravens do not weep
And my bones were no longer hollow
And such a wonder has never happened since
But here we are and this too may never repeat
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