living from night to night
these stripped down winter willows
reveal nests abandoned in withered crotches
reveal absence
even as our eyes try to fill each voided space
we peer into summer snapshots
struggling to find frameworks
beneath the green of something
impossible to place
something unremembered
now disclosed unearthed unleafed
we are hunting wood to burn
seeking that beat for the home’s heart
daily ritual of paper and kindling
the struck match (how many left)
sinking into ancient posture
we squat to watch flames form and rise
to hear the crackle of tender realignments
this hearth speaks of the wit of axes
of the variousness of trees
of burning and curling
low bass notes of danger too
all those ashen images of hot panic
homesteads blistering ablaze
cars baited by encircling firewalls
now the blackened ragged chimney
snags each blaze-soar
inhales each smoke-swathe
and coughs into night’s ink-lake
we read the glows and slow flickers
the spark-darts and quick tongues
tonight we know warmth
tomorrow we will search again
Ted Eames, 2019