Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #6                         Page 57
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I was sitting in my den listening to the sound of logs crackling in the hearth, on occasion I lit my pipe and read "La Mordida" the hearthstone watched me closely imploring calm; a plea from abroad the wind in winter's treetops played its usual tympanum in my ear and a sound drew near a sound of a low roar, steady rising without alarm I moved toward the louvred windows to draw the blind, when lightning scorched the pine of my heart and split it apart by a meadow fair I stepped to the hammer, and saw crickets playing checkers I stepped one-half step back and the fire rose around me consuming all dross filling my soul with light I was happy to know why the bush was not consumed by the flame

  Girôn d'Agate