The hearth

Theres something in a roaring fire that seeps into your bones,
A blazing pyre would  warm the hearts of  witches and old crones,
The flames dance nimbly on the logs and flicker out their light,
I sit and watch those flickering flames on a dark cold winters night.

These freezing nights when footsteps fall on virgin snow so deep,
Jack frost moves round without a sound whilst mortal people sleep,
Icicles hang from frosted gutters like daggers of crystal glass,
And the hills and fells fall under his spell as the cold one makes his pass.

The comfort gained within those flames is truly soperific,
The embers glow and share their warmth its utterly magnific,
When i sleep the sleep of new born babes it soothes my aching limbs,
Then i breath a sigh and open my eyes as the light from the embers dims.

More logs will bring the comfort back as the darkness tries to creep,
I stoke the fire and greet the light as i now repell the sleep,
I'm wide awake as i poke the grate and the flames dance tall and proud,
Then i rest a while in my humble pile far away from the madding crowd.

                                                                      by LJM 22/12/2012