*Please help me help this poem:

The rain ticks, steady,
On the window glass.
I hear and visualize
The spray plumed
From the street
Behind car tires
As they roll on
Through the gloom-lit
Darkness.

The warm drizzle
Will turn cold,
This Northeastern
January night.
A good night
For a fire,
To load on the wood,
Hear it hiss,
Watch it steam.

Later, at the stroke
Of minuit, the red
Bricks glow orange,
Then blacken, while
In the flames' white
Belly, their meal
Crunches, shifting,
And snaps and crackles.

Shadows play
On the ceiling;
The room's edges
Unseen in solid
Black; yet,within
The circle of light
By the encased sun
Cast rests the rug
Before the hearth,
The puffy old
Brown recliner,
The rocker
And the ottoman.

Let be this
Rain-soddened
Winter's eve.
The firelight
Glows to ease
The mind,
The fireside
Heat guards
The damp
From our
Bones.