I am the Bonfire

skipping, twirling, dancing,
whirling twisting turning bonfire
popping, burning, smashing,
leaving ashes, flames going higher
there is a sizzle and a whizzle to the whirling of her dance

she is a spinning, swaying, dipping, whirlwind
her super power is playing and swaying
a quintessential kind of faerie prance
her reds and oranges, splashing up into the forest air
crackling with eagerness, showing that she doth care

into the night she dissipates
forest watching, anticipates
She is showing her anger,
her rage, her honesty lovely and pure
explosive and, dangerous, she is me and I am her.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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