Through Christmastide the fireplace 

Did yeoman work to set the mood

Consuming wood at a terrific pace

Hearts warmed as only fire could 

Logs and kindling provide the fuel

Embers are the consequence 

Ash is generated as they cool 

A gray white unsubstantial substance 

The hearth now full must be shovelled 

Creating space for another blaze 

Shovelling ash is a task unrivalled 

Lest clouds of acrid dust is raised

From wood to flame to embers red

Consumed to light these joyful days

The dull gray ash now garden spread

Our lives now devoured by mammon’s blaze