Stumble

[butterflydreaming]

It's Mabon. As the sun sets and the air chills, the modest fire becomes even more welcoming. As the sun's light weakens, streaking the clouded sky with pinks against blues, the light of the flames grow in strength. Your faces look calm and happy, even as it is becoming more difficult to see the details of your expressions. All of our voices have fallen, with the last of the sunset: conversation in low tones. It's such a small fire. Another time, we would stack the wood as a feast for the flames, and we would feel our skins near to burning from the blazing pile. In winter, we will do this to warm the memory of summer.

Now we are quiet, excited but subdued. The air smells wonderful; the cold feels good. The soft crackle and crunch in the metal pit sounds a satisfying harmony with the saltwater unrolling onto the sand. Rock and fire, wood and water, and the soft shore breeze blowing the hair of silhouettes.

We won't see stars tonight. There are too many clouds.

I miss shiro_no_wired. I almost forgot that autumn began today. Thank you each for the reminders, R and M.