Stove
Proud on terracotta. And Black.Stout but neat. But still cold.
Pile up the wood.
Spark another firelighter.
Twist it open to flow its throat.
And when it catches, we’ll choke it.
But it dies again, (we watch it:)
slowly then suddenly.
Earlier, I’d fished the shovel
out from the sticky leaves.
And at five bags full,
The bin was bloated.
Open to drackie dreich December.
So the winter chill is brought in on the coal.
December 2004