Fire dances to its own beat,
tongues flicker and twist,
providing us with wafting heat.
Beautiful dancers of many colors dance,
blues, oranges, and yellow turn and sway,
each turn, twist, flicker, and sway seems to happen by chance.
Smoke dwells in the air,
as mysterious as its source,
it changes its shape and lighting under the fire's care.
So as I sit and write this,
the fire dies to sparkling embers,
and watching them glitter, I write in joyful bliss.