Sometimes quiet in it’s destruction
Other times loud
Popping, whirring causing both steam and smoke
Like a ghost haunting moisture
Evaporating one life to fuel the next
Like a zombie-vampire—it rages heartless, yet warm.
“The wood is the fuel
Add more fuel if you want more fire”
I’d waken him because the fire had gone low.
I didn’t know enough, but he’d teach and I’d learn.
I remember having watched my daddy do it
Gasping when fire-bright ember would leap and fade from the fireplace
“Oh it’s all right”
But Dad! It’s fire
I thought myself right to be alarmed
All these years later I offer reassurance to my own.
Like a lion tamer who never becomes too at ease.
For fire and lion are both wild
And neither would describe themselves as tame.
It does inspire peace.
The delicate dance of heat, oxygen, wood
I once heard a wedding speech
Marriage analogous to a well-built fire.
Logs close, but not too close.
I was ignorant
Didn’t understand fires, and thus not the analogy.
Years later, married and warm
I get it.
Best to fall asleep mesmerized by the bright warm joy
To fall asleep on him.
He’d let me until he’d rise to tend the fire
From a trickle to a roar
He could make hot coals scream
The heat often too intense to do anything with.
You’d have to step back, catch a breath and then dig in.
Nothing like a good set of fireplace tools
We need an ash can
I nearly burned my fingerprint off fussing with a large pot turned ash can.
A purchase for another day.
She rages on
Consuming in beauty all she knows
I humbly kneel at your power.