A Gentle Hearth

I set my small clutch on the arm of the armchair and knelt down by the brass hearth stand. The long iron fire poker had tilted awkwardly out of its notch, resting against the stone fender. Gripping the cool handle with both hands, I guided it gently back into its slotted ring until it hung straight and steady beside the tongs. The quiet clink of iron settling into place sounded remarkably comforting. After brushing a stray speck of gray ash from the hearth rug with the palm of my hand, I leaned back, admiring how peaceful the fireside looks for the evening.