Eight-line Poems

Campfire

Campfire

The embers of the fire are low now,
a glow between the black shapes of wood,
waxing when the wind breathes,
but sometimes, even in these last moments,
some hidden store of sap explodes,
releasing sparks to flutter in the night sky
like the last fireworks of the display,
a final hurrah of a life long lived.


Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, March 24 2021
Prompt: Ember.