My family settles beside the fire, our shadows dancing behind us.Bare trees sway and shiver; the fire leans from side to side.Scattering sparks that look like restless stars,I see a sliver of light speed by — so, I wish.

The grass is frigid; my hair blows in my face.Dried leaves race like chipmunks. The icy wind is biting.Yet I take off my jacket. Why am I warm?Is it the shimmying fire, or my sister’s silly joke?Maybe it’s my daddy’s gentle hug, or Mama’s incessant chatter.Perhaps it is the spinning of tales, weaving a warm cardigan.

White, cottony marshmallows twirl above the flames — magic.Golden-brown goo clings to my fingers as I design our family treat.Chocolate stains my sister’s chin, Mama’s lips- sticky with white marshmallow,And Daddy’s crunch echoes — hearts craving some more… s’more.

Clouds roar. Lightning zigzags. Rain quiets the fire.We rush into our clear tent, its skin shivering in the storm.We tell jokes and burst into fits of giggles.The wind wrestles the walls, but I kick off my blanket.

Storms can’t hush the warmth inside us.