fire wood

In the porcelain twilight dark flambé
shot skyward as the firewood shifted
in the fire ring outside our tent
the emerging full moon perched
above the rippling creek
outlining you perfectly walking slowly
towards our purposely chosen camp site
all around you darkness
except the moonbeams you trod upon
my golden girl wet hair dripping
and no towel in sight
dimpled skin yearning for the fires warmth
your twilight figure becoming clearer
with each hushed step on the dirt path
at the fire ring you hesitated
legs slightly apart hands on hips
the flames lapped at your smoldering furnace
and there in the porcelain twilight
you reduced me to smoke tornadoes
as I danced around your dark flambé