We bask in the glow of the flame before us,
Enclosing the heat into one tight-knit circle.
The wind blows dark shadows into the creases of our faces,
Creating mysterious expressions as we tell tales,
Stories not meant for the faint of heart.
The air is tinged with the hints of summer,
Flown in on the tiny wings of insects,
Exploring the light we formed.
Small, white cylinders poked with sticks in our hands,
We lean into the fire, watching their structure disintegrate,
Until it is melted mess of delicious pleasure.
And the fire casts out a light, warm and welcoming,
Inviting all friends into its midst,
To sit together and become one in front of the campfire.