The hilltops are aglow
and a feral wind compels flames
We pause on the front lawn
to take in the spectacle,
then continue packing the car
with what we can.
Tomorrow will bring its shroud
of cinder sorrows
but tonight yields silence,
smoky, foreboding, flickering.
Soon, we will say our goodbyes to the house,
then load the dog and drive away,
my wife holding my hand with a grip
as firm as parched pine.
I am an electronics technician and aspiring woodworker in north Alabama. My work has appeared in Plum Tree Tavern, Scarlet Leaf Review, Vita Brevis, Poetry Quarterly and others.