Potbelly

Outside, Lucifur the cat curls up under the heat lamp and sleeps until you can feel hot bones through fur and skin. She's a heat- seeking missle, as much as Jennifer is forever flashing too hot. But on coldest nights wood is split, fire is lit and we three cozy up, chatting and purring around the potbellied wood stove. We daren't replace it with an air-tight, since Gramps bequeathed us his potbelly just before he died and turned stone cold. Kindle, enkindle, Ignite light on winter's night -- Add fuel to flame. Written Nov. 7,2015 by Doug Long, for scott thirtyseven's Haibun Freestyle - Poetry Contest. Copyright (c) 2015 by 2815699 Canada Inc.