In quiet times, a mind reflects upon the experiences time has given. Time spent by a solitary camp fire waiting for the water to boil is perfect for such reflections. They may be current. They may be historical. But they are as undisciplined as the smoke of the fire, the steam from the water rising randomly, driven by the breeze of emotion or the heat from those embers of life gone by. This is a collection of such reflections in verse.
