Fire

                    

I watch the little spots of color

Dance around the night air

Like lightning bugs,

Twirling into the night sky

And disappearing from sight.

 

Sitting there, beside the stone circle,

I feel as if a heavy blanket

Is draped over my shoulders,

Warding the encroaching cold

From sinking beneath my skin.

 

I lean back, hair splayed over grass,

Listening to the snaps and crackles,

Watching the almost lightning bugs

Race upwards,

Mimicking the specks of stars,

And trying to be them.

 

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