It’s the lull between the flame and the last ember,
the quiet of the buttercream sky before the blazing sun sinks low.
the spark in your eye before the laughter.
As a child we’d slip on our coats not bothering to button,
slip into Dad’s boots, trudge quickly toward woodshed
through shovel-wide snow path,
collect tinder we’d gathered since spring,
rosy cheeked, return, feed wood-burning stove,
jockey for position beside cats and dogs.
Mesmerized we’d watch the flames take off,
roar and snap as Dad loaded the logs,
added paper for our oohs and awes.
We felt safe, happiness being together,
warm, popcorn and cider a treat,
tossing a kernel or two to dislodge the dogs.
When I parade myself along the shore,
watch the luminous sky combust and spread it’s glow
along the horizon devouring sky’s blues and whites,
I feel a warmth akin to my fireside idles; my heart swells,
feels twice as large, seemingly the cause for the tears
that balance precariously but rarely spill.
Happy tears, not sad, they fill me up
and, like the fireside embers,
kindle a well-being
that rivals only the flicker of laughter
I spy in your eyes as you respond
to something I say, something I do,
an all consuming love that leaves me rosy cheeked,
grateful for the fire that still burns.
by Margaret Bednar, November 27, 2018
This is for "dVerse Poetics - Fire Up that Creativity"