The Fire of Both the Old Year and the New

At year’s end my wife and I build a small fire
of whim that began one year when all the corks
we were saving for we knew not what (compost
or some other conserving gesture) came to mind.

From the couch we lob into the flames what remains
of our year’s decanting, and the fire increases
cork by chosen cork until the room is soft glow
with what we imagine is pure residuum

of the wine itself, flame of first vapor respired
into the moist cork and now held desiccate there
in the one sailing across the coffee table
toward the fire of both the old year and the new.

One of the many pleasures here is the calling
again of the vintner’s name and what we remember
of his sanguine gift, though that is not to suggest
It was all vin rouge, for there were the little whites

too, and blushes, whatever labels caught our eye
or won us to their cause by their truth in the mouth,
the cup of kindness, taken yet for auld lang syne,
but taken too for the small fire of the moment.

James Seay was born in Panola County, Mississippi, in 1939. His publications include four collections of poetry (most recently, Open Field, Understory), two limited editions of poetry, and a documentary film about big-game hunting in East Africa, In the Blood (1990), co-written with the film’s director George Butler. His poetry has been selected for inclusion in some thirty anthologies. He has also published essays in general-interest magazines such as Esquire and in literary journals such as Antaeus. From 1987-1997 he served as director of the Creative Writing Program at UNC-CH. His honors include an Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters and a Bowman and Gordon Gray Professorship (1996-1999) for excellence in undergraduate teaching.