Poem: The Coals Still Burn

2_resize.JPG

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.

Tom

7 comments

  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 .

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s