an old writer and his words

We sat in the cramped kitchenhuddled around the stovethe open oven door spreadinga faint warmth that barelyslid through the winter chill.The bare bulb in the ceilingstrained and flickeredfighting to hold as the generatorswere shut down, and darknessenveloped our small world.The sky was lit by the flaresand the odor of exploding shellsseeped through the towelsealed windows…