a dying fire

- fragile yellow flames crackling

- golden specks remain, resting on top of the wooden logs

- once roaring red

- more smoke than flames

- flickering rapidly, moved by the wind, tilting with intent to one side

- melting into ash-black, muttering, whispering, like it is calling out for help

- the image i see mimics the image of a drowning figure - the tips of the flames like human fingers, waving exasperatedly

the last autumn leaf on the tree

- hangs from the underside of a lone branch

- it sways and crackles in the cold wind

- holds the markings of the sunset