The Circle TIghtens - Feb 2 2024

 

The Circle Tightens

Feb 2 2024

I keep feeding the fire,

eyes fixed

on the dancing flames.

As if some uncanny force

had taken hold of my hand

and I complied unresisting;

as if, from a distance, watching myself

do it over and over.

Perhaps some atavistic urge

primeval memory.

The crackling sound

is oddly comforting.

A log shifts, and hits the ground

with a dull flat thud.

Embers

explode upward

in a shower of brilliant sparks,

then peter out;

drifting downwind

as cold black cinders.

This compulsion

to burn more

build higher

and push the cold dark night

even further away,

safe

in the protective circle

of warmth

light

belonging.

The only sound is the fire

because we’re all talked out,

lost in thought

with nothing left to say.

No campfire songs.

No clock to watch.

No flaming marshmallows

with sweet gooey centres

in blackened crusts.

Just staring in, eyes glazed,

faces flushed

coats undone

basking in the warmth.

And as the fire wanes

the circle tightens,

shuffling in closer

around the glowing coals.

But our backs remain cold,

and a quick shiver

runs up mine.

The whole time

facing out against the night,

like a palisade

of tender human flesh;

holding off

its dark unknowns.