Hey there OP, Pennsylvania reporting in. We're getting hit with a bad storm tonight as well, I wish you comfy times ahead. I don't have a pape to share, but I hope this will satisfy you /comfy/ needs: a poem I wrote two years ago for another /comfy/ thread.
I'm sitting in my basement, next to the furnace. Heating this home is it's primary purpose.
I've been here nine hours, and my coffee's gone sour. Though it won't be long now 'til I turn in for the hour.
The iron door opens as it's voice creaks and wails, while the sparks sputter out leaving hot red trails.
Heavy and hot, the fire roars on - unlimited phlogiston?
The walls have been tinged with radiant heat. The floor's had the same, and it's singeing my feet.
The smoke sings and hums though the chimney as it flows, a little lasting echo from the flame's bellowed rolls.
It's colder than hell in that wind tonight, the frozen flakes flying through the air left and right; thick and white.
The winter's still biting, but I'm rocking at peace. I tend to my writings, my fire bereft.