The Fire

Nepal — Silly poems for your backpack

Bunging dung into the heathole [Photo credit: Queen of the Mountains — Margaret C]

When the clock strikes five,
the staff come alive,
bringing yak shit from the store.

They douse it in fuel,
then drop it in whole,
to get the fire burning more.

People gather round,
with an increase in sound,
the room warms up a treat.

The fumes are strong,
at first quite a pong,
but all we care for is heat.

Off comes the hat,
out comes dal bhat,
everyone feels just right.

A tea comes after,
then plenty of laughter,
fire’s cold, so now, good night.

While I travel I enjoy writing a bit of poetry, mostly silly stuff, but all to remember the fun I had.

I recently completed the three peaks, three passes, Everest base camp trek — read more about that here and look out for my other poems!