We laugh around the fire
as its light flickers on all our lit faces.

Beer, wine, vodka, peach whiskey,
Sweet spiked, or bitter,

Whatever the taste, it’s a lit crowd
of raucous friends.

He tells the same stories
again and again – about the island
and all the elk he’s shot.

He’s lit, and the light from his face
never ceases to charm us all.

She drinks vodka and soda,
but is never too drunk.

My choice is usually wine,
though beer is better in this atmosphere.

I wonder what warms us most…