TheBanyanTree: Near a Dying Flame

[FrankenRob's Monster]

[I wrote this for a writing exercise list on Live Journal. Since it's based on Sat. night at the Banyanarama, I wanted you guys to see it first! -RBM]
 
We sat around the flames of the campfire, hands and feet warmed by the crackle of burning wood, bellies warmed by our liquor of choice.
 
It had been a good day--no, a great day--of activity, topped by roasted home-grown chicken (the kind you pay a bundle for in the city). The sun was down and the stars were up, a million eyes observing our gathering, circling us like wolves in slow motion, waiting for us to sleep before theybegan to truly dance.
 
We began to talk then, of things and stuff, little jokes and puns, ccents faked and exaggerated. As the night grew longer, talk moved to more serious things, philosophies revealed without being spoken outright and wisdom developed over hot burning logs.
 
Then we sang--off key and on key, forgetting and remembering lyrics to songs we all (sort of) knew.
 
Far too soon and yet just at the right time, sleep overtook us near a dying flame.
 
-Rob McMonigal


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