in the darkness of the valley
a bare yellow light bulb swings
under the corrugated iron roof  

just waiting for the right time
to open the kiln’s port and
into the brilliant light

throw a bundle of logs
one after another
just wait and watch

the kiln knows
how to fire itself
just wait and watch

the cold black sky
the distant stars
the dark silhouettes

the encroaching hills
a thin smear of
drifting smoke

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