Blazing Fire

Blazing fire

makes sleepy noises,
something like a dry sheet flapping,
as the logs and sticks are snapping,
and the orange flames are licking
up the chimney's black wool throat,
throwing out its heat and sapping
all one's will to stay awake.
Soporific warmth and hissing
sap in ash wood spitting,
sending me to dreamland sitting
by its side, head nodding,
dozing off to sleep while writing,
trying to describe it, fighting
its effect; a spontaneous reaction,
trying to reflect the sense of exultation,
at one's own creation
and something of the great attraction,
of a contained conflagration.
Blazing fire
makes sleepy noises,
something like the water lapping,
bits of gassy coal are cracking,
and the orange flames are licking
round the dry, well seasoned timber,
falling like a metaphor
for how I'm drifting into slumber.