13 APRIL 1991, Page 33

The Better Word

Bonfire: A great fire in which bones were burnt in the open air. Shorter Oxford English Dictionary Summer's petals shrivel in the cold, And dim atelier of memory; Their scent is difficult to resurrect.

Sensitive potatoes have grown old; First sweetness lost, they're stout and coarse, like me: Their toughened skin is maculate and flecked With warts and wens. This is a time for fires In gardens and in grates. Outside the trees And shrubs are vague and sorrowful in the mist; Stems of clematis, like tangled wires, Torment the trellis. Under apple trees Rotting Bramleys deliquesce when pressed Beneath my heavy tread. In spite of all The sodden earth and vaporous air I stack Branches, twigs, stale news, a magazine, Some broken toys, aborted poems' stained scrawl, All things that fire is eager to attack, Or will be when I splash the parrafin On wood and paper, add the match's flare, Like so: soon leaves of flame fandango, flaunt And wrangle in the smoke: an ancient scent, Both sweet and acrid, spices swirling air; Faint images and far-off speakings haunt The weather in the skull, all redolent Of unspecific loss; but then, as plain As if the child were by my side, I hear The voice from almost thirty years ago Of my son Toby, calling me again To make a grandfire, and the word is clear: Let's make a grandfire, Dad! And still I know, As I knew then, that through mishearing or The infant tongue's recalcitrance he'd found A better word than 'bonfire' for this blaze Whose flames are now gone widdershin and roar And crackle, spitting pips of sparks around In truly grand and not ossiverous ways.

Vernon Scannell