my friend and son and i went to a hill to burn a standing tree in full moonlight. we tumbled sticks into the night and burned them with a brilliant light that slowly swirled around the trunk and wayne plucked banjo strings while drunk with parker telling tales of times behind us.
as we watched the flame fly up the limbs and spend its embers as saffron sands i stand and smell the sweet and good and listen to the fingers fling against the banjo's singing string and watch the shadows from the moon withdraw to hide from heat released from sparkling wood.
this summer i will also stand and watch this heat consume the Man, and warm us all with random plan.
Monday, April 7, 2008
drops in and makes itself home in the grooves in the ground as it moves to deeper smoother streams of distance. warmer air makes time disappear in duties designed around the dirt, and all the things that flow up from it. bees need tending to. bees need tending too. i need more bees. and more time. or maybe just sleep.