Posted by: carolyn / through a widow's eyes | March 4, 2012

i’m pretty sure there’s a metaphor here somewhere

Saturday

I knew I’d be out all evening

so I stopped feeding the fire

sometime around noon.

The empty house was cold

when I got home

late at night

so I went to bed.

(Not to sleep,

so much,

but to bed nonetheless.)

Sunday morning

I shoveled out the stove.

Back in the far corner

Under a thick blanket of gray ash

– many days’ worth of spent fires –

I am surprised by a red glow.

There are coals.

There is heat.

The fire is still alive.

Down deep. Viable.

Just waiting to be stirred.

 

 

 

 

 

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Responses

  1. Yes. I think you are right.
    This is haunting and beautiful.

    Like

  2. Thank you very much, Jeff. How did you find me, if you don’t mind me asking?

    Like

    • I was searching the “poetry” tag on WordPress and this came up

      Like


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