flames burn brighter on Saturday nights.

fall nights,
meant to be spent sitting around the fire with friends,
drinking beers and staring up at the stars as we quietly
wonder to ourselves how long we really have left-
how many nights like this.
the air is crisp and carries the smell of
burnt leaves mixed with singed marshmallows.
there’s a pop! from the fire and
a small burst of sparks jumps high into the night sky,
amidst the smoke and slowly descending ash.
people sit on tree stumps, battered coolers, and in
tattered lawn chairs desperately needing repair–
talking and laughing together,
poking at the fire with twisted branches.
beside me, she pulls herself closer to my chest
and wraps my jacket around her gentle shoulders.
someone’s got a guitar,
and before we know it,
our words are filling the wooded clearing-
traveling far past this moment, deep into the night.
right now,
life is good.
life is beautiful.
in these sacred seconds
how long we have left
suddenly becomes
much less of a concern.



2 thoughts on “flames burn brighter on Saturday nights.

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