Campfire

I watch the ribbons

of flame fade into the night,

the fire burns low,

and crickets chirp

with wooperwhils,

dew begins to rise,

the stars are out,

thicker than usual,

and I feel small,

content,

like I'm invisible

in a good way,

I can taste

sweet burning wood

when I breathe deep,

and tomorrow seems

far away,

I feel like the flame

as it changes from

fire to night.

I smile,

lean back,

and dream about

right now.

Note: "wooperwhils" are birds that sing at night. Their song sounds like "whoop - er- wheel" and never ends. Ever.