Poetry sparked from a view of dancing flames:
I sit beneath a dark night sky.
As a gentle wind fills the night.
And glides across my face.
A smoldering fire warms the cold shoulders in my mind given to me by lonely strangers.
The crackling wood is a beautiful sound that reminds me of what is left.
So let the flames burn enough for my matter to pop into sparks that hit the sky.
And light up the air until they burn out so freely.
At least the sparks get to glow their best colors before they give themselves away to the stars of the night.
But oh what a gift to glow among the stars...
Even if it’s just a moment in time.
-NJ
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