Springing out of the fire with an unrivaled exuberance,
They spiral and change direction,
As if they are following their own
Delightfully deviating initiative.
They help the flaming torrent in its calming rapid beauty.
The emanating orange dots twists around the pillar.
The sparks die off, but new ones rise up in bursts.
It is a curiously renewing spectacle.
When one log falls,
Numerous fireflies fling out of the flames,
Spiraling up into the sky with an orange afterglow.
Sadly, it dies off as quickly as it was brought to life.
The sparks are a firefly;
Rather quick to die,
But beautiful to attract our gaze,
Even though the deepest haze.
One I wrote a while ago, watching a fire go at a Christmas party reminded me of it.
