Small Fires - Feb. 23, 2026

now I know why grannies’

rock by the fire to crochet

and grandpas’ hands cling

to steaming mugs of coffee

my fingers would cry out,

but without a voice, they

merely groan as I flex them

on this cold cloudy morning

my first poem today

will have to wait for something

warm to heat my knuckles

so pen on paper might create

friction and start a small fire

while granny hooks the yarn

and grandpa stares

out the window

On days like this, how

can the sun not know

that it’s time to switch

to a smile