Wood Heat

20 Feb

I tend the damper and watch
from the window—bundled cousins
are laughter with toboggans.  

They slide the slope to jumbles
then regain the hill, gathering
and choosing lanes

for another fleeting run—
children banging the cadence
they have always drummed.

Soon the failing light
will send them in.
Soon we will go back home.

On the sash, I am turning
away from my reflection
to flame in the wood warm room.

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