Ode to a Campfire

I

 

Amid a tangled mass of trees and rock,

A forest where light dapples into shade,

A clearing lies where we have taken stock

 

To rest a while in this pleasant glade.

And when that rest is broke by hunger's call?

We walk no more; a campsite here is made.

 

Our tents rise up as sunlight starts to fall

Their pegs like roots are driven into earth

Firm foundations for our resting hall.

 

So dig we now a circle in the turf

Exposing stone much stabler and drier

Our carried wood shall prove its weight and worth

 

As with a sudden spark it turns to fire.

 

II

 

How brightly now our cooking fire burns

A thing of light and warmth within the wood

Smoke twists up and dances as it turns.

 

We have made a thing, and called it good

When it sates and satisfies our need

And in this moment all seems as it should

 

But fire, like a living thing must feed

To stave off death, it will all things devour

Consuming, unrepentant, in its greed.

 

So watchful we must be, although the hour

Grows late; the sun has made its westward arc

Our tool, our toy, still holds its heat and power

 

A last light as the world around grows dark.

 

III

 

Above us now, faint starlight spots the sky

Our fire banks in deference, to match

dim embers twisting red to please the eye

 

Our quiet conversations start and catch

Against the snap and crackle from the fire

Each silence taking longer to dispatch

 

Words and light and people all can tire

When lengthy days in nature reach the night

The flames know when to rest and to respire

 

So when the final moment feels just right

Douse the fire! With one last clap of steam!

Let darkness blanket now this forest night

 

And let us slip off smoothly into dream.