nichepoetryandprose

poetry and prose about place

firepit

with 4 comments


Our firepit has a roaming spirit.  It began its days in front of the house and we had many wonderful evening fires.  Then, as the years passed, the maple tree overhead grew until it was dangerous to have a fire under such a thick canopy.

To improve the safety of the firepit, I moved it, stone by stone to the back of the house, reassembling it exactly as it was.  We had a few fires and then, one day, our lives became busy.  We kept taking wood for the next fire and the next fire never happened.  Gradually the pile became so large, you could not see the firepit!

Last month, my husband put our tractor to use to move the firepit one more time.  I clawed my way into the pile of scrap wood and uncovered the stones.  Then we pushed them into the bucket of the tractor and away they went, to their new home across the yard.

Now they are in the driveway, waiting for their new home (see the plan in ‘plans for a rocky road’  November 13, 2011 under the category   ‘the rock project’).

The next step will be to fell four spruce trees in the area of the firepit, to make sure we can have our fires safely.  This next step may have to wait until spring since the stones are now in the frozen throes of winter!

 

 

 

fire

~

 rattle of leaves

bark, twigs

and paper

as the air warms

finds its chimney

surges red life

into the tunnel of maple

the moment when breath

turned cloudy on cold air

becomes smoke

and lungs draw ash and fire

the summer night

when lightning strikes

when thunder

bold in its dreaming

turns beneath the earth

ions leap

and pine sap explodes

in a fistful of sparks

the warming by smiles

and clasping of hands

striking of sparks in the tinder

the flame leaps

from candle to candle

the sharp ache

at the corner of an eye

where cinders and smoke

have gathered

lungs drawing fire and ash

an effort to breathe

and fingers

warm with tremble

~

© Jane Tims   1995

Written by jane tims

December 28, 2011 at 8:32 am

4 Responses

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  1. Simply lovely. What memories of wood smoke and fire spark your words create…I love this line…

    “when thunder

    bold in its dreaming

    turns beneath the earth”

    Like

    Deborah Carr

    December 29, 2011 at 7:43 pm

  2. We used to enjoy sitting around my sister and brother-in-law’s fire pit for Midsummer. I’m sure we’d do it more often if there weren’t so many other things demanding their attention. As always, your photos and drawing are wonderful and your poem evokes so many primal and pleasant feelings, sights and sounds while sitting around the fire…

    Like

    Barbara Rodgers

    December 29, 2011 at 6:18 pm

    • Hi. Thanks. I agree that sitting around the fire is great. Lots of stories and always food to roast over the fire…. Jane

      Like

      jane tims

      December 29, 2011 at 8:53 pm


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