20 OCT 97 Licking flicker leaps tongue-like, sputtering, crackling fire. Our backsides chilly, damp and our frontsides toasty warm, hands outstretched, reaching to radiant heat.
Some sticks then logs, crackling in the twilight.
Campfires shared with friends, contemplated in solitude. The center, and the centre. Eyes cast in, seeing and not seeing the embers glitter-glow in waves, the yellow golden guttering flames jump and flitter. Into the fire, into thought, into self. Fire, our companion, our guide.