It was a yard work Saturday —
for the record, not really my
thing — shrubs trimmed, azaleas
cut back. Then it was time to build
the fire pit we have been discussing.
A hodgepodge of materials were used–
bricks, old pavers, concrete blocks —
all the leftovers pulled from under
the deck to build a multi-hued,
The Georgia red clay was opposed
to the project, hard enough to deflect
the shovel, interspersed with quartz
and wandering oak roots.
How deep of a hole is needed to prevent
the spread of flames fueled by dry
remnants of storm damage
and a season’s debris?
The steam of the shower confirms
muscle overuse, foreshadowing
stiffness and pain and a night
of wondering, but no sleep.
Tomorrow I will build a fire
and feed it collected rubbish,
waiting and hoping for a phoenix
to rise from the ashes.
At dVerse Fred asks for a self portrait using the literal
or metaphorical. I tried to incorporate both into a