Fire Pit - April 30 2021

 

Fire Pit

April 30 2021

The fascination of fire.

We are moths

to the heat and light.

We stare, hardly blinking

as if entranced

by the dance of flame,

enclosed

in its protective circle.

Inching in

our faces are hot and flushed,

while our backs are cold,

turned to night's

forbidding chill.

But a dead fire

   —   doused, stirred, trampled   —

is like a cooling body

after its final breath.

The spark of life

expired,

the ghost in the machine

departed,

and the still form it has left behind

seems to have taken on weight,

lying motionless

eyes closed.

In a rough circle

of heat-tempered rocks

dead branches

lie scattered about.

The scorched wood is stone cold

and half-burned.

The bed of ash

has the greyish pallor of bloodless flesh,

and hanging in the air

the acrid smell of old smoke.

Burnt char flakes off,

a small cloud

of fine black flecks erupts.

The fire leaves an ugly scar.

Such mesmerizing beauty

when it's alive.

And such unsightly remains

left for burial.