Granny's Fire

Each night you’d lay
The necessary elements
By the fireplace
Thinking ahead of the cold morning
And the need for warmth upon waking.

As embers lay dying,
Their faint glow
Emitting a feeble heat,
The kindling would be stacked.
Old newspaper folded
Matches in their box, 
Like sleepy soldiers with their hats on.

Each dawn you’d rise 
And rake the embers
Silken ash and crisp shards of coal
Tumbling through the grate.
Newspaper twists and kindling sticks
Stack a teepee covering the paraffin pungency
Of firelighters.

A match is struck.
The paper ignites.
A crackle, a pause, then a sudden surge of heat.
You unfold and hold a flat sheet of newspaper
Against the opening.
On cue, flames roar, thundering up the chimney
Sending sparks into the unknown sky.

Photo by AltumCode on Unsplash