An Hour

As the fire burns bright, 

The smoke blows with might;

With a strong and fiery light,

In the cold and windy night.

While the sight of dawn,

Wakes an urging frost;

A riveting breeze so gentle,

I lost my train of thought.

A raging ball of fire,

Makes a scorching face at us;

Look him in his eye,

And will arise a great fuss.

A sense of dusk,

And a purpose to say;

The day is drawing to an end,

And a fascinating look the sky has send.