The fire is lit,
It will be ready soon,
But smolders from
The wet wood.
Smoke curls over twigs
And wooden limbs.
As the heat grows,
flames flicker and dance.
The odor of smoke
fills the room,
as a puffy white cloud
goes up the flue.
The fire is lit,
It will be ready soon,
But smolders from
The wet wood.
Smoke curls over twigs
And wooden limbs.
As the heat grows,
flames flicker and dance.
The odor of smoke
fills the room,
as a puffy white cloud
goes up the flue.