Shrouded by a thicket of trees
a humble building sat.

Earthen brown & her windows
aged.
That old glass topped with frost and dirt.

Gently, I clear the thin veil
with my beaten hands.

Lo, there lay the roaring flame.

Neslted on the hearth
within the mantle.

Awestruck in its beauty,
I lost myself to time.

Day tenderly fell to dusk
and dark laid the pines.

I peered through that glass.

Lo, there lie the roaring flame.