The North wind bore snow,
A billion heat stealing kisses
Breadcrumbing into silence
The frozen mud ruts.

I holed up by the burner
Taking pleasure in the contrast,
The in-not-outness,
Just listening.

The heat dripping melt
Off the corrugated roof
Tap-tapped the tarpaulin,
As the fire charcoaled a story
Of how the wood gave up its sunlight:
A hundred years of weather,
Membered in the limbs of an oak.

A dry tick and whisper
A hush bubble roar,
Needles and crickles,
Hoarse coals rolled to carbon
Pulsing, yellow-pink-white-black,
Hissing its heat up,
The gift of its death throes-
Ember to the living.