Before a blazing fire

An ode to the fire, for last night’s dverse prompt. We got in too late for me to start into a poem, and besides, I was enjoying the fire.

1024px-Beltane_Fire_ceremony

Returning on a frosty night

To cold grate, colder still the air,

We scatter glitter in our breath,

Shedding cold from every fold

Of coat and sleeve and build a fire.

With voices raised to fill the air

With phantom heat, we watch the blaze,

The light that paints the walls with gold

And leaping scarlet, banishing the cold.

Beyond the shutters tightly closed,

The night frost grips each blade of grass,

And mice curl huddled in their nests

While silent-footed hunger prowls.

But in this space of crackling boughs

And sparks, a nebula of stars,

We stare into the shifting depths,

The fire path our forebears walked,

And see the tales that once they told,

Sung high, before the world was old.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

24 thoughts on “Before a blazing fire”

  1. We stare into the shifting depths,
    The fire path our forebears walked,
    And see the tales that once they told,
    Sang high, before the world was old.

    Somehow memories surface in flames. I find this to be very true. Very nostalgic for some, frightening for others.

  2. told in tongues of flame – so vivid are your words.
    “We scatter glitter in our breath,
    Shedding cold from every fold”

  3. Beautifully penned Jane ~ I too love this part:

    But in this space of crackling boughs

    And sparks, a nebula of stars,

    We stare into the shifting depths

  4. I love sitting by a fire. The smell of it, the warmth of it. Watching the lick of the flames I find facinating. They probably are relating tales once told. A nice write Jane.

    Pat

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