Rapt, we sit by the occasional fire
watching flames applaud the edges
of a log, reaching up like hands
of a congregation in praise of God.
We converse in calm voices, but frequently
pause to stare in silence; ruddy
faces, crossed with muted reverence;
not knowing why, but communing
with the radiant transubstantiation
of wood to ash, the pulse and glow
of the last fervent dance of wood-atoms
that adjourns the cruel ticking of the clock
till time itself in a dreamy trance,
like smoke drifting among the stars,
curls round and round our tranquil forms
and comes to rest by the occasional fire.
The Deronda Review (formerly The Neovictorian/Cochlea) Vol. 1, No. 1 Fall-Winter 2007
THE OCCASIONAL FIRE
POEMS & HYMNS
NEW POEM (12-9-08):
Waiting for the Resurrection
ABOUT MARK RHOADS
