The Campfire
Dad tosses on another log,
launching a crackle of sparks
that trace bright trails
in the darkening sky.
We sing every verse of "On Top of Spaghetti,"
belting them out like Gramps would.
We finish our song
but the tree frogs sing on.
Their trills pirouette round our campfire's sparks,
filling the green-scented air.
Nighttime slips in through the trees
and listens with us to the music.
I lean back
in the battered old camp chair Gramps loved
and stare up.
The sky is brimming with stars.
Did one of them just wink?
launching a crackle of sparks
that trace bright trails
in the darkening sky.
We sing every verse of "On Top of Spaghetti,"
belting them out like Gramps would.
We finish our song
but the tree frogs sing on.
Their trills pirouette round our campfire's sparks,
filling the green-scented air.
Nighttime slips in through the trees
and listens with us to the music.
I lean back
in the battered old camp chair Gramps loved
and stare up.
The sky is brimming with stars.
Did one of them just wink?
This poem is copyright (©) Jennifer Thomas 2025
About the Writer
Jennifer Thomas
Jennifer is a Canadian writer and editor. She is the co-writer of the Invisible Things zine, a collection of poems about the invisible creatures (gnomes, imps, and so on) who inhabit the world of modern kids and get into no end of mischief. Jennifer comes up with her best ideas for poems while she’s walking her dog, and as a result her dog gets lots of walks. This makes her dog very happy.
