The Flame on the Moon

Bonfires make me very creative apparently

The lukewarm sky falls down upon us
As embers of conversation flicker around our heads
A sullen cloud may pass
shrouding the stars in a sea of black smoke
But they shine through
Like the fireflies pulsing on the tips of the lawn
The grass is brittle yet soothing
With its dew endowed arms stretching towards
The moon
My feet are cold and wet until the Sparks collide
With the skin of my heels
Sending a shudder of tingling and warmth
Through my leg up to my ears
That which hear the smeared words of many sentences
About the moon about the earth about the people
And all the while I gaze into the swirls of orange
Cradling the charred wood like a mother an infant child
There's no reason to talk
Not at a time like this
Out of the corner of my eye I see everyone's faces
I see yours but it's not particularly special tonight
Just another shadow created by the ripples of light and swirling grey smoke
I see everything clearly despite my obstructed vision
I see you as a human rather than a god
And I am completely fine with that