Mind The Fire

On dismal grey and colder days
you couldn’t guess I’m pleased
to be a minder (who’s been left
appeased) to tend the fire –

With no affected wish to go on
shopping sprees and less desire
for crowded trains complete
with semi-urgent body-press

Or airiness in tête-à-tête of
homey chats where terms are
interspersed with epithets I
can’t aspire to understand;

It’s not for me – I’m better set
at rest by freedom to be best a
hermit less the consequence of
wholly captive space;

If yesterday became a vision 
of a fête ideal with harmony the
cause célèbre we’d dread but
never need distractions sought

From bleak, mind-numbing sorts
of incidents expressed as plainly
ordinary happenstance; and yet
today we’re off to feast instead

Upon a smorgasbord of dreams
because we know they’re there;
whose dreams are these – ask
whom you will, it is a fest to fill

Your emptiness they say, so first
confess a need and reach with
eager hands, do not renege,
you made the grade in seeing

What’s beyond command – and
yet I must appeal, I feel I am
fulfilled apace by staying here
instead to mind the fire
© 23 June 2012, I. D. Carswell