“Campfire Solar System”

Cedar wood may pop something bad when it burns

But boy do it sure smell good seasoning the crisp August air

From the prime seating of the mismatched plastic chairs

We swiped off he neighbor’s dock

Whose end cracked clear off when the water froze

Chomped away by a creeping, icy jaw

That won’t be unleashed until this season passes

The far up north crowd lounging five feet off the pit

So our bare feet catch the warmth without the blazing spit up

But I’m only staying up until the moon comes up

Over those birch trees there

And the logs are burning black and white

Like the night sky reflecting down into

Our own backyard planetarium

By Hannah Marie Nelson

About the author/poet: (age: 16)

I am currently a high school senior looking to major in English after graduation. I enjoy writing novels, short stories, and poetry. My aspirations include becoming a published author and fully supporting myself financially as a writer later in life and gaining a bigger audience for my works.