Hot embers lift feathery sparks
that pop scarlet holes against
Pandora’s inky night.
Our shining cheeks lift with laughter,
oiled by fire’s gentle sway,
polishing summer’s reverie.
No doubt we fit together,
this close circle of faces
watching the young ones
feed flame with branches that burn
until dawn begins to brush the sky,
then wets the grass
shooting from our mother
to tickle morning’s feet.
On our way toward tomorrow,
we create another yesterday
to hold us aloft,
when lost moments
cloak their hungry pall
over our empty nest.
Brenda Warren 2013
Process Notes: On the way to DC we spent four days in Pandora, Ohio, our home away from Montana, where we filled time around fire telling family stories until morning came close.
Such a beautiful use of words. The last stanza was haunting.
LikeLike
A great piece. A fusion of joy and sadness.
LikeLike
You had me at “Hot Embers” Brenda. Your “brush strokes” render a vivid portrait worth viewing (reading) over and again. Superb!
LikeLike
oh! such a delightful write
“then wets the grass
shooting from our mother
to tickle morning’s feet.”
favorite lines;
much love
LikeLike
‘No doubt we fit together,
this close circle of faces
watching the young ones’ ~ like these lines, and ’empty nest’ – resonates with me, yes, good idea to make memories of yesterday to warm up our hearts later, tomorrow…
LikeLike
There is both beauty and reverence in your words. My hope still remains that someday many of us will sit around a bonfire, our faces polished by the flames, and speak of the inspiration we have found in one another. You are back and that alone makes me smile.
Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/
LikeLike
Thank you, Elizabeth. A poet’s bonfire is an inspired idea. I would love to share that with you and many of us. One day, perhaps. Your support brings me comfort and joy. I am grateful that our writing lives have intersected.
LikeLike
I just left my youngest with his new bride in Bogota, so I know how that introspective process feels. Beautiful poem, Brenda.
LikeLike
Love how you distill intense emotions about an empty nest, Brenda.
LikeLike
Beauty of campfire scenes and now only happy memories remain of the enjoyable trip with family as life moves on!! Maybe there is another day another time someplace again!!
LikeLike
This piece was stunningly beautiful and a delight to read.
LikeLike
hmm, seems we both found yesterday and tomorrow in these words. Nice imagery and capture of the campfire scene and the memories formed.
LikeLike
Really enjoyed this and that last stanza is particularly powerful!!
LikeLike
Oh i just love that last verse so much
LikeLike
Such a beautiful use of the words and the scene you paint reminds me of my youth when we sat around bonfires on the California beach. And of course, camping.
LikeLike
Oh this poem is so touchingly beautiful and I knew that it had to be part of the bittersweet trip you just took to drop a child at college. I am long past those days and am in the time of life where those moments of which you speak, continue to hold me aloft! And, astonishingly, we continue to make those moments, for which I am so thankful! Thank you for sharing this poem!
LikeLike
“On our way to tomorrow we create another yesterday” … lovely poem – magnificent line – welcome back!
LikeLike
Vivid scene, Brenda. I knew you were talking about your trip before I read the post note. Your last stanza is quite poignant. I am so happy to see you back with us, my friend. You were surely missed. I also love the name Pandora for a city, that is pretty awesome.
Pamela
LikeLike
The yesterdays can either hold us aloft or bring us down. It’s a dichotomy. As we age, there are both more good memories and more regrets.
LikeLike
Sounds like a lovely evening. I envy you.
LikeLike
Memoir poetry. Yours is a beautiful poem. Made me want to be around that fire. The last stanza is extra beautiful.
LikeLike
Thank you, Sabra. You will always be welcome at my fire. I’d love to meet someday.
LikeLike
I am transfixed by the final stanza. Perhaps it’s because I never before thought of yesterday being able to hold us aloft, and this image is so, well, buoyant, that some of the sting is taken out of the lost moments. (I fear I’m muttering, but maybe there’s some sense here that you’ll pick up on!)
LikeLike
You picked up on what I was putting down, MMT. haha! Thanks for stopping, and please,always feel free to ramble, mutter, or otherwise express your thoughts. I’m glad you did.
LikeLike