The Fireplace

With two cords of hardwood stacked by the door
I'm ahead of winter again this fall.
All these years with no spark, no central core.
My art? To fortify'n avoided it all.

At Mount Auburn, my friend, Candice and I
Last winter, about this time, decided
To write a poem each week'n agreed to try
For e-mail delivery to the other by

Monday morning, coffee time. We would do
Fifty-two: Deadlines to keep us to it.
Miss Bishop and Professor Alfred too,
I hope these make you proud. Last night I lit

A new fire in an old fireplace
And dreamed I'd warmed your hands and touched your face.