A sandy path boarded by rose
bushes. A curved half black dome
above, painted with stars from
distant galaxies. Up ahead, flames
from a bonfire beckon us closer.
The heat presses us when we are
several feet from its heart. Blankets
with lovers and friends gather.
Sparks explode into cool air,
fighting to remain alive as they
rise in death spirals. Mad spirit
shadows spread ripples onto
sand beyond the circle, melting
uneasily into a gray night.
Roger Singer 