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