Candles

"Out, out, brief candle." I have taught Macbeth for too long when I look at a Christmas candle and that is my first thought.

I am not a fan of candles, although I love the idea of them and the sound of the word: caan-dull. There is weight to the word and elegance. Candles themselves I have always thought of as dust catchers or really good metaphors.

But, I confess, when I walk into my friend and colleague's classroom and smell the cinnamon from the candle she has been burning, I think maybe it might be pleasant...maybe, someday.

The flame, though, the flame I like. I could have a wick floating on oil, a flame dancing on clear liquid. Those are the house fires I like, too, the ones with glass pebbles and flames flickering blue and orange wavering their way up from the glass surface, reflecting off the facets, miniature flames winking beneath the flickers of fire.