The Yule Log
She watches it wither and waste in the grate;
A peel of bark bristles and powders.
Each kindled flare ferrets through crevices -
one bursts a chrysalis in a cannon of steam.
A chorus of dancers crackle and twirl,
their shapes make scenes: a story of shades.
She follows their play, a pantomime
of hunters and dogs, dangers and hopes.
This gift you have brought me - a jewel, a rose:
she'll dance in the moonlight to passionate dreams!
Jack Flame alights on the log, and bows:
a moss-pad smokes in the midst of his stage.
She watches it wither and waste in the grate;
A peel of bark bristles and powders.
Each kindled flare ferrets through crevices -
one bursts a chrysalis in a cannon of steam.
A chorus of dancers crackle and twirl,
their shapes make scenes: a story of shades.
She follows their play, a pantomime
of hunters and dogs, dangers and hopes.
This gift you have brought me - a jewel, a rose:
she'll dance in the moonlight to passionate dreams!
Jack Flame alights on the log, and bows:
a moss-pad smokes in the midst of his stage.
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