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.



Wonderful poem! Love the subject ❤️✨
Trudi, I love the ambiance of this spark of light!