Fires

On Saturday I was camping at a dispersed site along Halfmoon Creek and it was cold. When dusk arrived I used the remains of fires past to build a fire present, the remains of which I can only assume someone else will use to build a fire future.

Who camped here before me? They left their traces. Who will camp here after me? They'll leave traces, too. Eventually all we have left are the traces, and even those burn away as the days dash by.

I'm staring into my fire present thinking about the past and the future when suddenly time stops and the flames freeze in their position.