What have I done to you
to cause this reclusive silence
That has come between you and me…” ~Dead Can Dance
Regular readers will recall that approximately once a year I burn my brush pile. It is one of the real pleasures of living in the counrty.
This year’s stack included the usually branches and limbs, and at least 300 pounds from old, torn-down (and replaced) front porch, as well as maybe 150 pounds of other miscellaneous furniture that was fallen-apart enough to be burned.
It was my biggest brush pile yet, and required generous use of the garden hose to keep it in balance. I know lots of you who live in the country just light your pile and go have a beer, since I hear plenty of scanner calls about a “controlled burn that got out of control.”
My burn remained under control.
As always, I brought my iPod, and listened to all my favorite songs shuffle past, taking me places and showing me faces that spanned my entire life. I thought of you, yes you, every one of you. I missed you and thought about the things I loved the most about you.
During a break in the music, I heard the yipping and howling of coyotes.
I left the fire to burn itself out when it had burned to coals, watching it through a window. My night was complete.