Campfire Theology
Charred remains of last night’s campfire
spoke to us like Turkish coffee grounds.
Under the constellations
of an archer, a maiden, and a swan,
we imagined goals
we’d live to see, become.
Blue and yellow flames lapped
like waves against the tinder and
warmed the embrace of the cool night.
We waited for the embers’ last glimmer.
Our dreams floated up to the stars.
Deb Johnston
Deb Johnston 
Lovely.
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