‘But everywhere I look I see fire; that which isn’t flint is tinder and the whole world sparks and flames.’
—Annie Dillard, ‘On foot in Virginia’s Roanoke Valley’
‘I have found the dominant of my range and state—
Love, O my God, to call thee Love and Love’
—Gerard Manley Hopkins, ‘Let Me Be to Thee’
It is hearth glow now,
fire for the long eve
flaring occasionally with the spark.
It still has light to give.
It may yet spawn raging blazes
But it pops in hidden crevices of wood
it bides the time
is not consumed or exhausted.
It wants only tending
this tent and testament.
O what monstrous act was this of yours
to set me loose with a container of fire?