Burning Embers

Burning embers a setting a story blown back alive in the morning hoarsely eyes forced-open feed on their delight the fire, entire survived one whole night. Soon, bacon will be frying, fat sizzling and hands will be warm - stopped from shaking hot tea in a billycan steams away riverside camping? Wow, great, don't they all say? But I hate them thick, dense clouds of gnats that hovers around these kinds of habitats give me lots of insect repellent; sure enough then I won't wake up feeling too gruff. Tickle me a trout as big as your walking shoe I'll fry it in butter, and then I'll make love to you, following 'which' we can both lie about there afterwards, watch the stars all burn out.