campfire

Autumn calls and sends a lovely chill
down my sleepy spine, against the waves of will.
An orange campfire wakes under my skin,

and when you’re near it glows with oxygen.

Come, gather round with marshmallows and sticks!

I am warm and wonderful and full of tricks-

could walk a tightrope stretched across the town,

or toast you to an expert golden brown.

But sadly, you escape my trembling hands

and shoot up like a spark into the wind.

You carve a quick orange trail into the sky,
a trail I cannot walk, nor can I fly.

So I let the marshmallows burn to total ash.

and learn the taste of fire, reckless, rash.
I sing familiar campfire songs under the stars,
and welcome the inevitable winter with my inevitable guitar.