A Watch on the Hearth

Looking down from this brick perch above the cold hearth, I took measured stock of what lies below. There is no fire tonight, only smooth stone and the quiet draft of the chimney. With slow care, I eased forward to study the iron grate and the dry birch logs resting inside. A lone brass pinecone ornament had slipped behind the mesh screen. I reached down, nudging it back toward the center of the mantle ledge with the tip of my hoof so it sits upright in the shadows. From up here, watching over the hearth feels like standing sentry at the edge of an old clearing.