Smell fire,
fire burning
and moss,
damp and earthy
a soft, melancholy hush
of foggy, silvery morning dew
cracking, crunching,
those stale branches, creaking, snapping,
bare, barren, desolate trees
wet, muddy,
slimy leaves,
slipping,
then dry again,
feathered needles falling,
to blanket the path.
off to get the bird.
Today with nostrils flaring
inhaling a dusty, sweet-piney, pungent air,
I smell the fires,
of long ago,
they’re burning all around
those leaves of reddish-brown,
rust,
crackling,
to ashes, to dust
and back to the ground,
the debris, the heaps,
of the dead or dying,
like this whole year gone,
they just simmer now,
they curl,
they crumble,
they pop,
but it remains,
aglow,
the fire – my fire,
it warms my hands,
and my heart,
but just like this fall,
it will die
slowly, too
and I say a little prayer
a hushed little prayer
for you,
always you
before it’s gone.
http://tinyurl.com/zjh2bek says
Wow that was unusual. I just wrote an really long comment but after I clicked submit my comment didn’t appear.
Grrrr… well I’m not writing all that over again. Regardless, just wanted to say
wonderful blog!
Kim says
Thank you for reading!
Kim says
PS – I’m dying to know what you thought of my poem, as you mentioned a “long winded” comment. Would love the feedback if you have time. 🙂
Kim