Smoke rising
Into the dark sky
Crickets chirp
And a twig snaps
Warm air presses against me
And a cold wind
Blows behind my back
The fire crackles
And Mother laughs
As my marshmallow
Blows up in flames
Then it is bedtime
Crawl into the tent
The air is cold
But inside the sleeping bag
It is warm
The glow of the fire
Shines through the tent
As a stick cracks
And I drift asleep
Hanover, Pennsylvania
