My Pyro Side Loves a Bonfire

The bonfire warms me at first, but swiftly turns from nurturing and loving to raging, and venomously hungry. She is giving off a vicious, angry vibe in seconds. From gentle to formidable. I watch her moods change as swiftly as her colors. She makes loud, popping, cracking noises. I watch boxes implode into her, she smiles, feeling her power. I move my chair back a bit, as her heat is reaching farther with each pop and crack. She changes her clothing rapidly; from orange to black, to grey, to orange-black, and grey again. I pile on extra wood and cardboard, and her seductive dance begins anew. She is swaying and sashaying with the pops and the cracks. She dances high now, leaping, popping. I feed her another branch. Her thickest logs are starting to smoke on the ends. This surprises me, I did not think she could develop so quickly. Fire always surprises me. Never the same, always her own unique dances. She is falling into herself now, quiet-like and docile. Her raging appears to be over. She is settling into her gray basement. I throw a few pieces of cardboard on her, and she darts forth like a rocket, with pure joy, bright orange. The dance begins again. My pyromania heart is satisfied at last when we see her creeping stealthily out of her confined fire pit, sneaking toward a pile of leaves, understanding her intention to set the entire forest ablaze. My thinking brain goes after her with a rake, before my pyromania heart realizes what has happened. Because pyro loves fire.