Samantha Hunt

Winter days and an urge to protect
as trees slip south horizontally reaching
for familiar horizons, anchors breaking,
and children blow in ragged with rain.

These century old hands can teach a new trick-
the perfect tightness of scrunched paper to kindle,
the increasing diameter of ascending sticks criss-crossing
to a summit of coal, dripping damp ancient particles.

The initial leap subsides to a gentle exchange-
flame over log, log over flame, flame over log
as a stream of smoke billows from the chimney
signalling our indifference to this storm.