Image by nigelhowe via Flickr
The stranger enters my room.
It sits by my fire.
And, I serve it jasmine tea
and quiet.
Jasmine tea and quiet,
and a little warmth from my fire.
We dance with the yellow of the flame,
feel the coolness of its blue.
And, rising in a vapor,
we dance the dance of the fire.
Morning arrives, and the flames,
part of another world,
still dance in my head.
We’ve absorbed one another,
become one another,
and we’ll never be the same.
The stranger is gone,
but remains within;
We’ve danced the dance of the fire.
(c) Janet Mitchell 2011
