With the Scent of Wood Smoke

With the scent of wood smoke drifting on the air,

And the glow of firelight we always love to share,

Visions of camp fires all return,

And as the logs flame up ad burn.

We dream of bygone camp fires,

And long for those to come.

Tongues of yellow fire flick’ring up on high,

Reaching twisting fingers up to a starlit sky;

Voices recall songs old and new,

Songs once dear to our fathers too,

Who dreamed of bygone camp fires,

And longed for those to come.

Gently dying embers cast a rosy glow,

Voices slowly sinking to tones so soft and low,

Slowly upon the still night air,

Fall faithful voices hushed in prayer,

That dream of bygone camp fires,

And long for those to came.