Cheerful Fire

Warm summer night

Cool dusk breeze

Seems about right

As there is no-one to please.

Sitting by a tent

Moon shining high

Sparker in hand

Watching light fly.

Birth of my fire

In soft grasses nest

A few embers first

Consuming the rest.

Bark goes then sticks

In small earthen pit

With a stout log to back it

The fire does spit.

With fuel gathered high

As I gaze into night

My cheerfull fire glows

Protection from fright.