Farm Fire

• Jessica Brownette, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2012

Flames lick the smokey air,
Cinders fly like two mates in spring,
Wood disintegrates slowly,
Painfully like a puncture through the heart.
Matches scattered and spread throughout the gazy heat. Warmth spears and lures you towards, hook, line & sinker.

The meadows atmosphere waves in the thrusting movement too & fro. Burning seeps through the sappy stumps as the blossoms fade to orange, to black, to nothing. Wary insects, burrow beneath away from the radiant fire.

Smoke lingers, as do the people surrounding it. No one indoors, all near the open microwave. Dogs wonder between legs navigating for some warmth.

I'm home.