Blissful amongst spring raindrops,

Light as feathers they float seemingly from the ground up.

Once, I built myself anew, hewn of wood and etched with lovely prayers;

but breathless before a wildfire,
It ended as all kindling must.
Decades of woodworking in my bloodmemory,
Little more than pretty fuel and foolish,
I set myself to stones.
Rhinestone eyes and marbled flesh,
I build a better devil.
I’m all sloppy starts, shoddy tools and aching limbs, 
But knucklehead and blisterpalm beget nothing less than fireproof.
I rest a flushed cheek on your skull,
Balanced artfully on my shoulder,
And breath deeply before the moment scurries back inside.