Flames, Rain, Embers and Pine

In a clearing, a fire burned. Flames leapt into the night skies, reaching to the stars. Orange light danced on the trunks of the trees in the woods. Snapping sparks climbed to heaven.

But then rains came. Clouds covered the stars. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed against a tormented sky. And the falling torrents extinguished the dancing fire. Where a hot fire had burned, only a smoking pit remained, hissing smoulders sending pallid spirals of smoke upward where before bright flames had been.

Beware the smouldering fire, my son. The hissing spit reveals a heat so hot that rocks ringing the pit will burn the hand that touches them. For embers glow underneath it all, in spite of the rains, waiting for the hard dry wood of pine that has weathered the years. And the flames can spring to life, given the chance.

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