By one candle

Picture: 

A rural young farm,
horseback
and a sky lit by candlelight.

Winding lanes
turn into darkness,
comes light,
peacefulness.

Wrench.
Cold hands,
ice water.
Sinking.
Like in a bottle.
Bobbing.

Roaring and cursing.
Rapids.
I curse you.

Laid out on land,
black over green,
yellow over black.
Humming.

Always humming.
Like a bug.

I used to play with tin soldiers.
They'd dance for me.
Now I dance for them.

The End

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