Dramatic Eve of Our Last Fire
14th July 2023
Set ablaze the last four logs.
Roaring in the pit,
On The windy side of the hill,
The sky opened and stared to spit.
Then it poured, heavily,
We had to retreat,
Into the warmth and dry,
Wishing to Stay warm,
Under the canvas, it sounded dire,
Our last night after all,
But determined to enjoy that roaring fire.
Sporting raincoats each
Covered atop with the faithfully brolly,
Adventuring out to watch the fire burn,
Risking the weather, fate our folly.
If we had stayed inside our canvas haven,
Pessimistic and melachonia possessed,
With The wide variety of scenetic delights
We would never have been blessed.
Facing toward the valley below,
The suns rays shone bright and true.
Behind us the sun hid in grey skies,
No breaks, not much sign of blue.
Then cracking through behind us,
We ourselves formed long deep shadows.
As the sun blasted through the galloping clouds,
Moved fast by giant invisible bellows.
On the horizon a sundog formed,
Opposed by the now shy, enclosed sun.
Such a glorious rainbow ethereal light,
Delicate, glimmering, joyous refracted fun.
Meanwhile the logs danced an ashy tango
They sparked and crackled, warm and bright.
A perfect sun shaped hole appeared,
And the whole valley was flooded with light.
Magically a rainbow appeared ahead,
As the sun hid once more.
The valley filled lines of rain,
We worried that this for us might be in store.
The fire was now defunct and derelict,
Only embers, ash and burning coal.
The sun like a Constable painting,
Lit up the clouds like a winning goal.