Countless hours spent hearth gazing
during long, cool summer nights.
Even before old enough to light it,
I sat entranced by golden glow.
After a day spent pollywogging,
it held my interest nightly.
Two small rooms away,
grown-ups sat chewing fat,
while stirring the daily news
into their cuppa joes.
Kitchen windows black
like scrying mirrors,
backdrop to debate and laughter,
trumping pinochle bidding wars.
After growing bored,
I'd melt invisibly away.
Rorschach designs in knotty pine paneling.
The sizzle of deep frying redwood sap.
Ribboning licks of dancing light.
These, some of the ingredients
I used to fire my imagination.
Visions appeared among the flames.
My world was colored by warmth,
as barrier to obsidian nights.
11/11/07
Posts
