Poem: The Coals Still Burn


The Coals Still Burn

The fire has run low.
the last flames flicker and die out.
The dark of the night is no longer pushed back.

In the distance there are coyotes yipping,
their cries echoing along the quarry walls.
Beautifully dangerous beasts, safely afar.

It is time to go to bed. A night well spent
by quivering light. Hypnotic. Crisp.
The cold pushed back.

It is time to go in. The coals still burn,
far more hot than the rampant flames,
cleaning to heat as if they know far better

the value of life
as it draws to an end.

About this poem

What they don’t tell you about aging.



  1. Have I told you lately how much I enjoy your poetry?
    Well,I do.
    I really enjoy your insights on life and love.
    I must come back soon and get caught up on more of your poems.
    Thank you,Tom .

      • Yes, I am doing better now, thank you for asking!
        I appreciate each new day I have as after losing my sister recently, I have realized not to ever take anything for granted. My health is good now, thank God.

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