Rustling Flames on Hearth

Sometimes when the rustling flames are dancing on the hearth --- I catch the music of the trees along a woodland path. . . . I hear the wind move through the branches in a long low sigh --- and see a tracery of green against a summer sky.

The logs now crumbling into ashes once were sentient things ---- Tremulous with life and movement and the beat of wings. . . . The wood that gives its golden fires to light this wintry day --- has worn upon its living limbs the snowy blooms of May.

~ Patience Strong 1945 ~

Aaron and Rylan sit by the fire and soak up the heat on a wintry day.