Campfire

The crackling and cackling of sticks burning

The distant sounds of owls hooting

Children, parents attentively listening

To the old man quietly speaking

Complaints unheard even with insects biting

campfire storytelling

Shivers unseen with the wind blowing

All are sitting with the fire blazing

Listening to that old man talking

Stories of time past, the future bringing

Lores as old as the oroko spilling

Tension in all sweetly sweeping

Even as the old man is coughing

It is the now, the future coming

From the campfire, the words whispering

For our traditions keep changing

But old men will always keep telling