Fire Me Up
by David Adès

There’s not a lot of heat in the furnace,
not a lot of combustion today.

It’s 30°F outside and still: the wind
turbine rests in hibernation mode,

the solar panels are dormant
waiting for the sunlight beyond the fog.

I’m in my orbit on slow burn,
the first coffee trickling through my system.

The baby is asleep for the moment,
bundled warm in the pram, serenaded

by the dishwasher’s trickle and swish.
One daughter is reading and the other

is grappling with xtramath and inertia.
It’s nearly lunchtime. There’s a request

for home made pizza. I’ll turn the oven on.
Maybe that will fire me up.

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