The Hearth

The Hearth

Almost consumed
the huge log
holds together teasing
the flames that cling to it
curl round it, spit over it
into the hearth

The carbon seems solid,
last illusion of the tree,
and you, too, cling to it,
form so beautiful
you want it but refrain
from lifting it out

Still, it is great comfort
before it finally collapses,
no red giant, ending,
but simply our cycling sun,
its warmth that contains us


©Roberta Gould