A citrus candle burns on the desk
periodically popping as if
it needs to release some CO2
after sipping on a cold can of soda

The fan is set up on the work bench
blowing encouragement across the dyed leather,
little fingers of air draws the moisture out
the way the sun coaxes a flower out of bed

It’s past midnight and the dog is 
asleep on the floor next to my feet,
perhaps dreaming of squirrels, 
or the political climate in the Congo

At this hour, I have the world to myself
and as I make my way from the shop
to my little camper in the woods,
I take careful steps through 

a fog that frosts the ground
with a layer of white cotton candy.
As I climb the steps, my fingers 
find the switch that turns off the world
But tonight, I think I’ll leave it on