Tag Archives: Fire

Fire

It’s getting cold here in Columbia’s District! My Japanese Maples are fire-engine red, vermillion, the exact red of the spark of fire inside a goblet of merlot. We’re all going to be wanting to spend more time gathered around the fire. Here’s some music for viewing Japanese Maples and for staying warm.

You Can’t Start a Fire, Worrying About Your Little World Falling Apart

I think there’s a message there. As my brilliant friend E. says about tattoos, “Go big or go home.”

Thursday Poetry Blogging

hat tip: Sia

Elements: Fire

How will you call the Element of Fire next time?

When there Were Wolves in Wales

I believe that, on this day, each year, Dylan Thomas deserves to win the interwebs. I will go to my grave a huge sucker for a man who can recite poetry. (And, anyone who writes, “when there were wolves in Wales,” could, had he played his cards competently . . . .)

Elements: Fire

hat tip: Washington Gardener Magazine

Elements: Fire


First Fire

~Camille T. Dungy

Stripped in a flamedance, the bluff backing our houses
quivered in wet-black skin. A shawl of haze tugged tight
around the starkness. We could have choked on August.

Smoke thick in our throats, nearly naked as the earth,
we played bare feet over the heat caught in asphalt.
Could we, green girls, have prepared for this? Yesterday,

we played in sand-carpeted caves. The store we built
sold broken bits of ice plant, empty snail shells, leaves.
Our school’s walls were open sky. We reeled in wonder

from the hills, oblivious to the beckoning
crescendo and to our parent’s hushed communion.
When our bluff swayed into the undulation, we ran

into the still streets of our suburb, feet burning
against a fury that we did not know was change.