The deck shudders

Under heavy boots

Shedding snow

That will melt in the house

Trailing wood chips

He tramps to his altar -

The empty hearth

Which awaits him

Heavy wood and kindling

Loaded in his left arm

Have worn through the fabric

Of his sweater, once new

But sensuous muscles

Viewed with appreciation

Make up for the loss

Of mere fibers

Logs are placed with artistry

Like oils on a canvas

Chosen from a palette

Of carefully chosen hues

Tools shine – untouched

Callused, experienced hands

Handle his materials

As lovingly as his Grandchildren

His masterpiece complete

He is unaware that he smiles

As he lights the long match

That gives life to his masterpiece

Kindling blazes before

His Intense scrutiny

He crouches single-mindedly

To watch the red tongues

The flames become greedy

With their first taste of the feast

They forget their manners

And gulp huge portions

Fire rages in its confinement

The artist has achieved perfection

And his eyes glow brighter

Than the fire he still watches