Campfire

Crowded ‘round the fire, red orange the colors of warmth, cold air sneaking in.
I pull back my head; wind strikes frosty on my face, duck back for warmth.
Sweaty furs wrap me. Breath out white as the fresh snow which melts around the frame.
Heat convects forth fast. Air above rippling and waving. Hot dogs roastable.
Red wood fuels the fire. Log once whole now split in half, no more wood in store.
Fire spirit, see you later. The night is stale and I must rest my bones.