Still Smoldering

One beach party is still hot, at 8 the next morning:
a driftwood log radiates warmth, puts out wreaths of smoke

Whatever passion or drunkenness or conviviality, or earnest conversation
that may have unfolded over the course of a warm summer evening
is still smoldering

And you, o my soul,
whatever your aspirations, plans, projects, grand designs
relationships warm or cruel cold
fears disasters heartbreak
satisfactions, completions, contracts fulfilled or unfulfilled
you smolder on

This smoke is sweet and purifying
the embers remain but are buried deep

Yes! They will consume themselves and go out
but not yet

not yet