Poem: A Dismantled Chimney

I was reading a lot of Henry David Thoreau when I wrote this (hence the quote under the title).

A Dismantled Chimney

…by a chance bond together  -Henry David Thoreau

Among the blustery autumn days there sits

That of a dismantled chimney of red bricks

To which no mason will be coming back,

Stacked against a haggard house in disrepair

Beside stillborn flowers in a garden bed

Whose blooms cannot be found, save in old poems.

It has been said or seen (I have forgot)

That this stony hearth has but one subtle charm

And it’s not the comfort of a dwindling

Fire by which a pair of chapped hands could warm

Nor a crooked nail on which to rest

One weary memory or a baseball cap.

But stand before this broken pile and you’ll see

The unwanted particles of dust and leaves,

The crumbs from off the common table

Blow into open sky, fuse into dark cracks,

Mix with each passing rainstorm and become

The slow, steady mortar of the seasons.