Fall Campfire

Tonight, it is the creamy orange and weathered-grey striped cravat. Outside the cabin, the autumn night is clear and cold. The fire pit's remnants are mostly ash, the sticks now merely memories of the crackling flames they once held. As I skewer a couple of fluffy marshmallows onto my long cast-iron fork, I lean forward and blow gently onto the dying coals, feeling the phantom heat warm my face. In an instant, the grey soot scatters and the embers softly glow anew.