Limestone Magazine - Wood Fire by Joan Michelson

Wood Fire by Joan Michelson

I like to heap the logs until the fire's
howling hot, and go to bed, and lie
between the sheets, listening to the way
it eats the pine with creaks and, steaming, hisses
in a round of whispers, and pretend
I'm in a whiteout, left for good in Wood,
my roomy pine-and-hemlock writing hut.

Outside, a snow of lacework disappears.
The trees, the basswood, oak, the maples, birch,
the quaking aspens, poplar, all are vanished
with their winter squealing. Safe within
and snug, I write and dream and sleep
until the fire beds itself and dies.
Then, wind and everything blows in.

Editorial Poetry Stories Essays Humus Grikes Clints Erratics Submission Privacy Contact us Shop Site map