Smuts
by grimbeau
Daylight
turns up over-clouded,
dampened, colder.
Solid,
slow, thick smoke
entranced sundown fires
exude precious little
warmth after dark,
Just
steady slow
smoulder, self-razing.
Torn up
newspaper, flyers, and cardboard
will leave glowing,
but soon, instantly,
stop, dissemble
And fall in tattered,
flimsy, dark smuts.
