#oldpoems — Public Fediverse posts

Mist

a lake

filled with fish shadows
swimming in dark depths
across a bottom covered with
green creeping algae

weeping willows press close
moss hangs from branches 
looming over the water
where the wet roots of the trees 
grip fungus covered rocks
 
a mist slowly rises pale and thick
from the glistening surface
forms appear and vanish within
weaving to and fro like ghosts
swimming up into the night sky

a white blanket spreads slowly
over the sleeping countryside
swirling around houses
and slipping into chimneys
across the silent hearthstones
until the rising sun
burns it away
 
 From the collection "Words at 16 (1983)" - edited June 2026

#Wood #WoodFires #BurningWood #Poetry #OldPoems #OldSayings

There is an old poem on firewood, which to some extent, holds true, in my experience.

Beechwood fires are bright and clear,
If the logs are kept a year,
Chestnut's only good they say,
If for logs 'tis laid away.
Make a fire of Elder tree,
Death within your house will be;

But ash new or ash old,
Is fit for a queen with crown of gold.

Birch and fir logs burn too fast,
Blaze up bright and do not last.
it is by the Irish said.
Hawthorn bakes the sweetest bread.
Elm wood burns like churchyard mould,
E'en the very flames are cold.

But Ash green or Ash brown
Is fit for a queen with golden crown.

Poplar gives a bitter smoke,
Fills your eyes and makes you choke.
Apple wood will scent your room,
Pear wood smells like flowers in bloom,
Oaken logs, if dry and old,
keep away the winter's cold.

But Ash wet or Ash dry
a king shall warm his slippers by.