Wisps of smoke wrap sinuously
’round logs stacked in a ring of stones.
Flames waver in luminous glow
as soothing heat seeps into bones.

Marshmallows toast at their stick’s end,
the charred remains of molten joy.
Exhausted in our sleeping bags,
crickets and cicadas annoy.

Lying beneath blankets of stars,
picking out the constellations.
Dozing as Cassiopeia
makes her clarification.

Waking to a fresh roasted brew,
breakfast over an open fire.
A day to commune with nature,
that should once again leave us tired.

M. Zane McClellan

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All rights reserved