Chimney Smoke

Chimney smoke rising up into the cold air
Still warm and careless as young love
Expanding with the first touch of morning wind
Like an Englishman’s old white powdered wig
Prancing along the roof tops without cloths
Caressing the ridge & sloping hips as it goes
With every twirly curl it gradually comes undone
Fading under the eagle’s wings of a rising sun
Yet how we forget the spark that first ignited
While the kindle lay in the ash of a wood stove
As pure potential before its heavenward rove
Our need for warmth a yearning to be united.

By Jason Youngman
November 2018

My photo above is of the Narrows leading into the Harbour of St. John’s, Newfoundland. The village on the left is The Battery and the development on the other side of the narrows is called Fort Amherst. It’s a very scenic place for hiking and taking lovely photos.



About Philosopher Muse

An explorer of volition and soul, a song under a night sky and a dream that forever yearns to be.
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11 Responses to Chimney Smoke

  1. Taylor Hamilton says:

    I love this.

  2. kanewischer says:

    Jason – That photo is so beautiful. And it adds to the beautiful words of your poem. Both make me want to visit Newfoundland. Thank you so much for sharing. -Jill

  3. inesephoto says:

    Beautiful photograph and poem. Must be a quiet place, out of reach of the storms, since the buildings stay so close to the water edge.

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