It’s no joke without fire

An adage for Jilly’s dverse prompt.

 

There is something I have learned

from winter nights,

when frost crisps the grass

and creeps across the bedroom floor,

when the stove is ash and the moon is cold,

stars strike no sparks,

and brittle ice forms on the water in the well,

(the one warm place

on this small patch of earth,

nights of frost and crystal clear,

is a fortress built of wool and duck feather quilt

until you yank it)

that one good turn

takes all the blanket.