Primal Pleasure

It wasn’t really on the list,

but why not take, I thought, an hour or so

to shift some things in the garage.

It was a good excuse to start an outdoor fire, 

to warm my hands between each shifting shift.

 Except, I spent more time beside the fire pit

than working hard on the garage.

I’d snagged some cedar boughs:

still green, they crackled gleefully.

The fence slats, old and dry, burned quick and bright.

I added locust logs, cut off of our own tree.

The flames cavorted, and my thoughts went dancing, too.

Together flame and mind, like sunspots, flickered up

and died away again.

I couldn’t tell you more than that.

But isn’t that a part of why we fire-stare,

to be entranced, and let all purpose go?

I can say, though, that tidying up can wait.

A winter afternoon by outdoor fire, 

chilled without but warmed within,

is more rewarding than a neat garage.

Photo provided by Cornell Cooperative Extension of Warren County/Almanack archive