 |
The
cleaned grate looked bare.
Like the focused solitude of a
White canvas, a solid foundation.
The cleared ash stood cooling,
In a silvery-hued metal bucket
At the hearthside, insignificant.
The action of clearing the ash,
The lifting of lint from a filter.
Its substance, the meshed detail
Of impressions consumed and set aside.
The beginning of a fire starts as
Something fragile, the sputtering of
Sparks igniting fuel into illumination.
From the cast-iron appearance of coal
Springs the incandescence of warmth.
Its cheeriness, being in the reaching out
To those that gather around its glow. |
