The crisp smell of autumn is in the air. 
Gathering wood from the dying forest,
to be arranged into a blazing pyre.
The season of fall, transforming nature.
 
Flames shimmy and grow brighter as they flare
to life with cheery illumination.
The dry wood crackles as smoky plumes rise
in swirling mists of a bluish grey haze.
 
A towering blaze shoots high in the sky,
flickering red and orange in the dark,
hypnotizing those huddled around its
swelling of gyrating intensity.
 
Fanning the fire, stoking the glowing coals
that rise like a hellish inferno.
Sparks hover above like fireflies soaring
and gliding in the chilly autumn night.
 
Streaks of fiery light and color explode
with the popping sounds of Roman candles.
They shoot skyward, lighting the darkened sky,
then spiral down as smoldering cinders.
 
The autumn aroma of burning wood 
chases away the chill of the cool night.
The brilliant light dims like the season fades,
vibrant at the start, death coming at the close.