After the fire

After the fire

The fire is ash, the dark sky darker,
and the rain falls heavy as sorrow.

There was no tapping at the window,
the places set remained empty,

but I heard the owls and their calling
across the meadows and the swaying trees.

The door is closed now, the cloud veil drawn,
and the night will deepen before the dawn,

yet there is a spark, a memory of soft fingers
brushing my cheek with feather-touch,

and from the corner of my eye,
I think I catch the fading of a smile.

Perhaps you came after all.


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.

13 thoughts on “After the fire”

      1. Thanks Michael. The youngest is with us at the moment and she has a flu. Not the best time to have one, the weather has turned cold today and it’s still very wet. Finbar is fragile, but he’s not as bad as he was a week or so ago.

    1. The night Finbar had a bad episode, which I think might have been a stroke, there were owls screeching all round the house, barn owls and tawnies. I was convinced they’d come for him.

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