Written with the English tradition of Bonfire Night in mind. The excitement and fascination that fire arouses in both young and old always surprises me.

It entrances all whose eyes witness it’s sinuous show of blue and gold,

an alluring hold,

which accompanied ancients in their wanton dances.

And drew to it’s warmth the village folk with their fearful eyes glistening,

intent on listening,

to the flames crack and roar as the cold north wind blew.

There’s wonder about and stories are told of great deeds done by the tribe,

as they imbibe,

wise words giving comfort for what’s been torn asunder.

Old songs are sung with familiar sounds and words leaving mist in the air,

as they stare,

letting the fire cleanse their hearts and right all their wrongs.

As a new dawn approaches only embers remain resolute in the dying fire,

folk finally tire,

knowing that through the conjured flames the Tribe has been reborn.

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