Stretched out on the grass
looking up at the stars,
hands tucked behind their heads,
feet crossed at the ankles, bellies full--
fat for the sacrifice
of what lurks, stalks them
in the dark: werewolves, zombies, orcs . . .
While dragons skitter-fly by
on iridescent wings
they craft stories
from far away worlds
to see which of them
can scare the others most.
A fir wood fire crackles in the pit.
Marshmallow bits stick to their lips.
“Can I have your room when you move out?”
Laughing, with brave faces,
their eyes in firelight reflect the wonder
of what it will be like to be the first to leave,
be the ones left behind.
A large spark darts skyward
splitting unspoken thoughts
and they turn back to stories of goblins, of ghosts,
on this warm night in brothertime,
shaking off the growing chill
of jitters a bit more real.
© 2015 Jennifer Wagner
For dVerse Poetics: Brothers/Brotherhood. Hope you come and join in the fun!