Poem # 62 Hearthworks I

Hearthworks I I walked in from observing the night sky yet again humbled by the celestial spread of grandeur, and in a moment of clear seeing saw the Aga stove, there it was, a thin pink penumbra all around the outline of the circular lid on the top of the stove, and a hazy oval of energy on its side, and small imperfections in the cast iron, or bits of household detritus, began to spark and twinkle in the surface of the metal, burning off in minimal bursts of final existence like the stars in the night. and I was reminded how everything is part of the great matrix of existence.