Flame Tower

lying head back under a glorious night sky
end of a treasured holiday, on a high
plush damp summer grass, a fleeting week flown past, 
now gazing at an inky upper ocean, dotted with white flotsam and jetsum
sound of friends' laughter, happy and full after
a good dinner, now seated in a  
semi-circle - heat warms our skin, feeling cosy within. 

in the midst an epic tower blazes - its smoking breath rises, hazes the atmosphere, its heat so near it scorches my face as I peer into the burning foundation  of this raging inflammation, conflagration, bright illumination of red, orange, black, white, blue - a seering flaming hue of firey coals, stack towering high, a spent log rolls over - crunch - into the ashes, and upward flashes a fresh shower of sparks - shooting up red darts hissing, fleeing, flying heavenward - zipping red snakes interweaving - they dance, they prance, gripping me in a firey trance - red cloud rising , smoking up, up, up...

soaring blazing pillar of soothing heat, blissfully warming the soles of my feet, as I listen to its subtle hissing beat - twigs crackling, flames roaring, soft cackling, bark flaking, sparks twisting, red tongues spitting, fire choking... in the background guitar notes floating, flames flicking, whilst fingers are picking, voices singing, music bringing joy to all, as they watch the flame tower gradually fall. 

above and around bristles a fir tree silhouette - spikes of dark jet set against a grey unending sky, pricked with white sunfires in a wondrous canvas of astral chaos.  

fire now burning low, a floor of spent wood all aglow - ashes shimmering, glimmering, still simmering hot as the sun. 

the evening's almost done.. and people start to disperse as I struggle with my verse, but a few remain to watch fire dwain....   and as the night grows colder the fire watchers draw bolder, huddling closer to the kindling, its fire dancers dwindling.

so sat snug whilst I'm contemplating these things, I can't help remember what tomorrow brings - 
the reluctant return to the daily rat race, back to the life of seeming unrelenting pace
but right now I'm feeling flame warmth on my face
and though the idea of work is depressing, thoughts of emails and spreadsheets are somewhat distressing
it's those times when we pause that are such a blessing
time to recharge and relax - a chance for refreshing
no use resisting what is inevitable, we all have to accept that a job's indispensable...
so as the last bundle of flamewood chars
I'll sleep soundly and content this night under the stars.