kindle

in the cold of morning,
before light breaks the sky and
stars return to the dark
where they are born,
i break the kindling
set the logs
conjure flame from a matchbox –

and all the while
two owls speak close
their words smooth round
like pebbles in deep water.
i open the doors to listen,
lean in to the dark
frozen fingers on the latch –

and the forest comes in cold moist and
brimming with the voices of the living –
and the fire leaps to life
in the hearth.

 

WhatsApp Image 2019-04-17 at 09.55.17

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