Catching Fire

High temperatures in summer is no news most places. Except in Ireland, where if it gets much above 20C/65F, we swelter, broil, boil and fry. Partly, it has to do with living in northwest Ireland without a cloud of pollution overhead. The sun is particularly intense here. I have had more sunburns since moving here than anywhere else I have lived. That includes beach time at the Jersey shore in childhood. So it has been an interesting June watching our south-facing field fry in relentless sunshine, seeing the thermometer register 45C at 5pm one day.

So fire and dry heat has been a theme. We are now back to normal ‘good Irish summer’ temperatures in the low twenties, with humidity. I strongly suspect a poem on the theme of steam may emerge over this coming week.

Catching Fire

 

The earth under my feet

is mostly made of peat.

 

We have been a month without rain,

since Whitsuntide at least.

 

The earth under my feet is cracking.

I could flake it.  Snap off a chunk.

 

Set it alight. If anyone wanted to bother

burning some in the grate.

 

This summer’s sun is intense enough

to take a match to the bog.

 

The earth under my feet,

this rich, black gold,

 

is not yet smouldering, but

may burst into flame

 

any moment now.

Just exhaling could fan a flame.

 

Tongues of fire

will speak their pure language,

 

purgation.

It’s a gift.

 

Later, many months later,

the birch will begin.

 

First one, then a sister sprouting

a twin, triplets,

 

a family of trees telling

the whole story, chapter by chapter.

 

 

Copyright © 2018 Bee Smith

 

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