I laid the twigs as bones,
blanketed in my favourite
summer leaves tucked
inside the fire-nest.

Newspaper down
nestled a small ruby
placed in the centre,

then grew a childish flame
dancing in the brick ***

its cries singing upward
as autumnal ghosts,  
in their flickered gasps,

cackled their summer
screams as they fell
back through black coal,
seeds for next season.