Words have colours, feelings and sounds.

Message to Readers

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January 6, 2020


Firelight, as bright
as the end of a day, as warm as
the finishing and diminishing crescendo of spring
growing into summer.

Little blue flames lined the old Vulcan gas heater, 
on winter mornings it would start with 
a roar, 
tick, tick, tick. 

We would warm our naked little selves against
tiny flames. 
I did not understand how they were so warm.
It was the gas.

Firelight was the crackling soundtrack
to many long, hushed conversations
of growing old and young;
it was the ode to new friendships, 

Firelight contained in beeswax holds me
accountable for my words, 
words written to the firelight sky
and dedicated to a life-giver.

My eyes heal. It is the opposite of blue. 

Rhapsodic flame, rhapsodic. 
dwindling, growing, flickering, fragile. 

The ending of life, the beginning of life. 
Feared, worshipped. 
Sprouting words and adjectives,
proclaiming charred new beginnings.

Firelight chases laughter, eats it, consumes it
and leaves no trace
for a while. 

I fall silent and want only to stare, 
observing your effervescent nature and 
husky voice, firelight. 

Your nature is nature. 
Firelight, the faithful, feisty companion
to all people and their non-human friends,
opening, spitting, burning, raging, roaring,

Even your youngest child has a temper.


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  • January 6, 2020 - 6:05pm (Now Viewing)

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