Homefires
Give oxygen to flames’s unrequited yearns;
Link bodies, who’ve bodies to be linking.
Trump trunkless wooden longings with homely warmth,
You do because you can: embers, casting hearts in turn,
Soft fellowships of glows, winking winter nights
In each others’ gaze. A fire that never burned
Gathers no moss, and rolls its stony way
Through its stony days, smouldering, and always.
There’s smoke from every chimney;
The village is most circumspect -
See the way it looks after its own.
There’s smoke from every chimney.
Its formal walls give rules to those
Who’d vent. This is not my village, though.
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