Patience and Chimney

Patience and Chimney

Patience heard the screen door slam.

The man had come outside to chop wood

To feed Chimney.

It was a cold spring, but the snow

Had retreated with her arrival.

Some nights, winter’s bully brother, Frost,

Returned only to be chased away by Spring.

She was not a lady to be trifled with.

Patience was snug and warm in her corner

Beside Chimney,

Enduring the presence of Frost.

The community had protected her

For as long as they could.

Mom’s leaves clung to Stem and covered her

Even after she was gone.

They slipped through the tangle of stems

To the ground below.

Patience thought

She was probably still feeding her.

Chimney kept Frost away from Patience,

Even when he snuck underground to kill Kitchen Root.

Chimney can be very protective of his space;

If riled, he will get as hot as Summer.

Chimney stays warm even when he sleeps.

Patience told Frost once, “Be kind.

Chimney did not like bullies much.”

Frost laughed and boasted, “Summer had gone,

And Winter was in charge.”

But now that Spring had arrived,

They were all packing up to leave.

Patience liked Spring

She was kind and liked flowers.

Patience heard the screen door slam

A lady and a child came out with gloves

And garden tools.

The lady told the child, “We need to

Clean out the flower beds by the chimney

And replant for Spring.”

“Oh! Look, Mom. One little flower

By the chimney is still in bloom.

It has survived the winter.

Can I try to root it?”

The lady said, “Sure, see that knuckle

Down the stem a bit? Cut on a slant

just below the knuckle, and put it into

A bud vase in the window.

She is a tough one.

She probably will root in a few days.”

Patience felt the snip.

Where was Chimney when she needed him?

The child put Patience in a bud vase

With food and water and placed her

In the window.

The window was warm,

But Patience missed the community,

Her mom, and Chimney,                    

Even if he was not much of a talker.

Stem had grown a Kitchen Root like the lady said,

Two small buds tightly wound

Were sprouting from Stem.

Patience thought, my goodness, I have children.

Patience was joyful but felt weak.

And fearful She would die.

Before they bloomed.

She may not be here to tell them

About the community, their grandmother,

And Chimney.

They may not remember me much.

As we just passed

As they were entering life

And I was leaving.

The child said, “Look, Mom, my little flower

Has roots and two buds.

I’m going to plant her back where I found her

by the Chimney.”

Suddenly a burst of flame from the fireplace.

The lady asked, “What was that?”

The man said, “Probably a pine-knot exploding.”

Patience said, “I love you too, Chimney.