Late Night Poetical Fires

Midnight approaches, and five tightly bundled shadows collect the necessities: notebooks, wood, and their witts. They set off down the dark road, breathing in the freezing air, and chatting away, with the crystal clear skies and gloriously bright moon and stars lighting there way. Upon reaching the frozen pond, one started to prepare a fire, missing one handy material: paper. A few blank sheets were torn from notebooks, and went up in futile attempt at starting the dense wood. Another ran back for blankets and paper, the others gave up on the fire and munched some food waiting. The frustrated boyscout's mind kept turning till it laid eyes on the leaves. "These are dead, these are dry. They should burn." A few handfulls were snatche up and taken to the small amount of embers left from the last futile attempt. A couple crumpled leaves were gently place over the embers and a gentle breath blew life into the embers. They glowed bright, and after a few more breathes ignited into flame catching the leaves. More and more leaves were slowly added, more breath blew in providing much needed oxygene. The flames grew brighter as they devoured dead leaves and licked their way around kindling. Slowly but surely the wood caught flame and sustainted the flame on their own. Skills and ingenuity were the key and bright flaming success was the result. Five shadows gathered round the meager flames that were trying to ward off the icy claws of the cold, and illuminated faces looked up into the wide open sky, and the shadows began to share their poetical works. Thoughts they've put down on paper, graceful stanzas flowing from within. Thoughts of life, love, pain, and faith were shared. Then they just sat and stared. Stared at the fire, at the moon and the stars, the frozen pond, and the depths of their mind. Finally the fire was scattered, dirt was kicked upon the glowing coals, and the shadows melded into the dark, shivvering their way home.