Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
at the end of the chilly day, the edge of the woods is alight- tall trees and low flickering fire-line against the pale western sky. the fierce blaze, wind-driven holocaust burned hot and hard across the land. the dancing fire-devils are gone. a flashing firetruck waits in the smoky air, the faint crackling radio echoes the dying pops of the embers- the quick snapping flare of a pitchpine stump bright against the long shadows. God and man have fired these woods for all time. the neighbors congregate to watch and talk, or lend a hand. we walk the mile-long line with our shovels and rakes, soot-covered and coughing to ensure the fire is dead. crazy old sanders shouts to us from the road: "ticks and snakes! a fire's good! it kills the ticks and snakes!" he rides away on his bicycle- a voice crying out in the night. i believe him yet i bend to blackened boots to check my weary ankles for signs of life.
0
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 9:57 AM UTC
winter burn
at the end of the chilly day, the edge of the woods is alight- tall trees and low flickering fire-line against the pale western sky. the fierce blaze, wind-driven holocaust burned hot and hard across the land. the dancing fire-devils are gone. a flashing firetruck waits in the smoky air, the faint crackling radio echoes the dying pops of the embers- the quick snapping flare of a pitchpine stump bright against the long shadows. God and man have fired these woods for all time. the neighbors congregate to watch and talk, or lend a hand. we walk the mile-long line with our shovels and rakes, soot-covered and coughing to ensure the fire is dead. crazy old sanders shouts to us from the road: "ticks and snakes! a fire's good! it kills the ticks and snakes!" he rides away on his bicycle- a voice crying out in the night. i believe him yet i bend to blackened boots to check my weary ankles for signs of life.
true story interesting experience
joanna-dibble
Written by
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 9:57 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem