Fireside reflection on the metamorphosis of beauty

Flames lick the blackened bricks
as frenzied yellow-white dancers
sway in the updraft, wreathed
in blue veils. A vibrant red ribbon
underpins the crossed logs
as they are gutted –
unmade by some invisible
maddened god who cackles
and groans intermittently
until the last remaining beauty
is the dove grey ash.

 

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