What Happens Next
On the last fire of the season, and new things
The last fire in the wood stove
of the season, these coals orange and alive,
you and I sit in the basement reading,
writing, while above us chaos and not-yet-
sent-to-bed children scurry like
mice in a bakery with free rein.
The flames demand air, a quiet roar,
and the wood crackles and spits against
the grate. It would escape if it could
and burn it all. The darkness falls late now
in the spring, and I am ready for the dog
days, but one last night here, in the
basement with you, on this borderland
of seasons, seems just right.
Also just right: this new thing
is coming with the arrival of spring, that
unknown to us it has been growing
in the ground beneath our feet,
sending down a tap root, reaching
upward towards the light, a kind of hope
whose fruit we do not know because we
didn’t plant the seeds.
What will these days bear in the future? What
new thing?
Come. Let’s wait together beside
this last fire, wait together and study
the ground, ohh and ahh together
when the green of it pokes
up through the dirt, nurture
this thing together, you and I, and see
what happens next.
We have a new podcast to share with you! In this episode, we talk about one of the two things that George Saunders says separates successful writers from all the rest. It’s a fun episode.
You can find all of our episodes over at Apple Podcasts or Spotify or anywhere you listen to podcasts! We also have a new Instagram account for the podcast . . . please follow to keep up with the episodes and to get some daily writing encouragement.
"not-yet-sent-to-bed children" 😍
(They seem to be here too! 😀)
“a kind of hope whose fruit we do not know because we didn’t plant the seeds.” - beautiful!