The Fire

In the early dark, I can still smell the fire,
water, if water has a smell,
that remnant steamy scent.
I never cared for him, this neighbor
who constantly complained
about my trees overhanging his property,
the noise the nesting and sleeping birds made,
how sour and wrinkled his life,
always angry, full of fist-shaking
and hot menacing words.
The fire had cleansed us of this man,
taken him away, perhaps permanently,
I prayed, so now that fury would subside,
for a while at least, and I welcomed
the smoky silence, my heart
beating slower, my long anger subsiding,
just as the birds
began their joyful morning choir.

Today’s random word of the day is “silence.” Use silence in any kind of writing. If you like what you write, post it and link to me, or just leave it in the comments. I’d love to read what you wrote. Mahalo.

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