Dennis Hatfield
Jul 24, 2021


As a child toasting marshmallows

Over a campfire

Was a treat

No matter where you stood

Thin cut willow branch

In hand

The glorious smoke of camp

Wood fire would

Find you

For a sweet treat

Burning eyes

Dry throat but

This morning I awoke

To that smell of

Wood smoke

But my campsite

As the sun rose was

My bedroom

My how things have changed

Nonbelievers abound

As we toast

The earth that has become

Our marshmallow

Bitter S’mores

Remember the smoke

Will definitely get

In your eyes



Dennis Hatfield

Dhat888 - The Wizard Speaks