Hearth

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You have offered me refuge in the storm

The heat of the inside fire is calling

Back in by a lethargic hearth of stone

Left eagerly to brave the burning stinging chill

And leave tracks where none have yet tread

Stung by bitter patron Wind, I feel alive

Behind the glass I knew my fate would lie

Beyond caressed and wrapped in fury Air

I lose track of time in the falling snow

White is everywhere around, bright blinding

Infinite tiny patterns lace the air

Through the quiet keenly I see branches

Tortured by a maddening wind and cased with ice

So also graced serene the turtle rocks

Past which the stream flows like living sculpture

Black against the white I turn to see false flame

Out through the bars of its constricted frame

Rendered puny by perspective and exposed

As habitual ignorance fit for the fool I feel

I trudge content further into the woods

The hearth fire holds sway no more

Hearth  - The Courage of Intimacy by Keith Ainsworth                                                                                                                                                                              30