Midnight Treat
A campfire
Dies
Before the scouts
Are ready to leave
They hide
In their tents
As wolves surround
Their false sense
Of security
…quiet
Or there tear through
Everything
That stands
In the way of their feast
We are
But
A bite to eat
Compared
To the meat
Of a bear
But the sweat
From our fear
Will make us
Quite the midnight treat