watching the fire

Watching the Fire

The wind has built a night wind in the flames
The fire is rising with each chimney gust
There is a heat encroaching on the room,
an exile till I found these cedar chips,
pieces left from building a new shelf
Now heat is welcome and he seats himself,
beneath the sofa where I hang my feet.

There is a golden light before the hearth
and I am watching trees outside that bend
almost to earth, then rise back up again.
And I am watching how the mountains stand
so much a narrow gateway to the world
and in the last long view of evening dusk
I know they lead to distances too far

I know dusk must move slowly into night
and that it does so all around the world
and whether we sleep in darkness or in light
the dusk will still move slowly into night
But for the moment I am happy here,
and half way sleeping in the heat that rakes
in gentle flicks of light across my face.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Emily B]

oh, Phibby, the words would warm me on the coldest day . . . you take our words, our best words and weave them into a story that flickers and flames

[Doctor JKC]

There is little more fragrant and uplifting
than the burning of ceder.
I love the image of the bending trees and
solid/stolid mountains.
A gorgeous moment and so well written
and observed.
Jack

[James Paulin]

You have caught the charm of the hearth which is diluted by the electronic world we live in. Laptops, Ipods, Blackberries and cell phone compete with HD tv as distractions. Thank you for bringing back pure comfort of an enchanting fire.

[Ed Hart]

To watch the easy flow of your words is a joy to me. As Aslan might say (roar?), you know the deep magic...

[Bud]

By firelight we see, and are comforted with warmth. A very soothing piece. Amazing how a short spell with a fire can open ones eyes to their surroundings. Both near, and afar. Outstanding piece of Excellence. Keep on with your art.