'Campfire' by by Jennifer Mungham

Fire

The flames flickered into the dark spaces between logs. Floating along the wooden surfaces and twisting in the wind. A thousand dancers to a cackling beat bursting upwards with pops. The heat was a silent, steady wall, not affected by the fluctuating flames, warning the enraptured audience from getting closer all the while tempting them. Marshmallows, heedless of the danger, pushed forward spinning slowly amongst the fire, charring and softening, sweetening the air.

Air

The breeze flowed down the hills, a constant stream of bustling noise. Cooling what the fire warmed, a delicious chill raising goosebumps. Pushing the smoke onwards and upwards mixing scented pine leaves with charred branches. 

Earth

Swept clear, smoothed and dried, the Earth embraces its visitors for one short night. It taps out rhythms below their feet as they chant and dance. Silent alone, with friends it can rejoice and rival the fire, even the wind for noise. 

Water

The hissing of mortal enemies finally meeting in battle. Flames fly outwards, frantically trying to escape to start afresh. Vapour rises translucent, ethereal, heated by fire and transformed then lost to the breeze. Wood cracks and splits at the sudden rush of cold, flinging off an army of sparks and pulling in the life giving moisture, trying to stave off the inevitable by washing off smoke.