Seasons end eventually
Fireplace captivation
Gives way to warm breezes
Offering the sweet scent of orange blossoms
Coasting on their gentle wake
Through my screen door
Raindrops have worked their magic
Daffodils line the garden path
Roses splash the apple buds
Bright pink peach blooms dot the branches
Irresistible magnets for the hummingbirds
Remnants of the winter’s firewood
A dwindled stack
Loosely piled on the back porch
Mostly green and moist
Harvested by the wind
Cut to size by me
Soggy
Thanks to a weekend cloudburst
Alone it refuses ignition
Flickering and smoldering and smelling
Until it extinguishes itself
But
Mixed with the seasoned oak
Kept in the dry
It burns and spits and sizzles
A warm merry winter’s tune
Like a happy friend
Capable of brightening
Even a curmudgeon’s day
Seasons end eventually
So too fireplace captivation
I hope so anyway
I just used the last dry stick
Copyright 2011 Patrick Granfors
Anna
Your poem popped a thought of the fire fall that Yosemite used to display every evening. Unlike the drive-through tree that fell over before I was unable to get there in 1967, I was able to see the fire fall before it was ended by national park conservation.
Eventually, all firewood runs out.
Ron
Cheers,
Dan
Chip Bergeron
Mark
The Flue Bug Chimney Sweep
I love these times next to the fireplace, and in some ways I'm sad to see this season go.
Be well,
Christine