That night
when the crackle-orange fire
was so bright we almost
couldn’t see the stars
like sugar shook onto
the sticky black sky.

That night
when we all sat in
the grass together, my knee
touching someone’s knee, my
shoulder up against
someone’s guitar.

That night
when we pressed
marshmallows and chocolate
squares and Reese’s pieces
between graham crackers,
the marshmallows leaving
a white trail on the
sticks we used to roast them.

That night
when we wrapped our
arms around our guitars
and sang in effortless harmony,
the chords we strummed sounding
full and warm, somehow more
than just sound, the vibrations
humming in our bodies.

That night
when there was nothing
complicated, when broken hearts
felt glued together for a
little while, when we could just be,
a cluster of friends
making music and making
s’mores.

That night
when we sang till our throats
were dry, laughed till
our sides hurt,
played till our fingers were numb,
and hugged till our arms ached.

That night when one night
was all we needed
to feel alive.