The other night as I swept round a fire
I noticed the cruel end,

That abandoned mane of straw
With no handle on it

Tossed, deserted, ablaze under the unrelenting roof of sticks
Lit to burn these fallen limbs and warm my cold self.

Ignited, I can see
That all things end and live

Again like my mother does
Her arms outstretched, chasing me through the kitchen

To pull into her warm embrace
A young boy, pretending to help.