top of page

St Vincents Fire by Nigel Roth

There in the ‘place is a kindling

Leant up against a log

Put there without much thinking,

Thrown on the fire-dog.

It sits for a time, warming

To it’s life, and beginning to see

It’s reason for existing;

To heat the edge of me.

As minutes roll it catches,

And flickers in the deep

And promises the reward that

My body will soon reep.

Alight alight, it fires up