In lieu of a fireplace,

I warm my hands over the stove,

feel the force of air shoving the cold 

backward.

I find the crackling fire track 

on my phone

and fill the silence 

with whispering embers. 

I strike a match,

putting flame to wick,

just to see the fire dance. 

It’s no alpine chateau,

but somehow—just now—

it’s every bit as lovely,

and every bit as warm.