Solitary Candle

(Again, the illustration doesn't mesh readily with the poem, but this scene ... those stream-side rocks with their collection of autumn leaves ... happened to catch my attention ... there are so many vying for that ... and here it is)


I've shared today's poem with you before ... when I was having computer problems. And who hasn't had those?


I hoped that visitors would remain patient while my computer and I continued our recovery from our latest adventure/misadventure ... 


I was a little tentative, but I said that I thought the computer was working right ... "now" ... though the counter didn't seem to be counting ... 


As to whether I was "working right" ... I admitted that I still bump into furniture ... misplace my car keys (there they ARE ... in my OTHER pocket) ... trip on cracks in the sidewalk. 


You know, the kinds of ordinary things that ordinary people do as they pick their way through the fog of the day.

Meanwhile, today's poem:



SOLITARY CANDLE


My candle sculpts
itself in its corner
of the room, flame
gyrating in the draft,
tiny avalanches
of wax slithering
into the maw,
a fungible, seething
mass that labors
back up the wick
to sacrifice itself
as a bit of light,
distant warmth. It
flickers, warning me
that I shall soon miss
the warmth, its quiet
companionship, gently
flowing memories, its
solitary, sustaining
work of holding
the darkness at bay.
© 1996

(originally published in Anterior Poetry Monthly)

Today's word: fungible