Poetry About Fireplaces

Logs settle inward with a red sigh. Snow presses its white ear against the window. Around the hearth, every chair turns toward the same light. Old stories loosen as the kettle begins to sing. Ash keeps the shape of what has given warmth. The room grows quiet without ever becoming cold.

Snow presses its white ear against the window. A hearth turns weather into conversation. Old stories loosen as the kettle begins to sing. Even fireplaces keeps more than one meaning in view. Embers remember the labor of flame.

Logs settle inward with a red sigh. Time carries the image beyond its first appearance. Around the hearth, every chair turns toward the same light. Ash keeps the shape of what has given warmth. Embers remember the labor of flame. The room grows quiet without ever becoming cold.