One spark an errant
future sent
careening as all
futures must.
On the hillside
the orchard stood
fruit ripe
as fire alight
forced
apple peddling
a way of life
far away
from mountain russets.
To the machine
came the itinerant to seek
such sustenance
as could be had.
How far away
that valley must
to a generation
once removed seem.
On the machine
they lay their heads
as a prouder generation
never did.
But the visit back
always brought
comfort
beyond thought.
Occasionally we all
feel we belong
far away
far from home.
And up the hillside
up the mountain
where the orchard
once stood
to one side
there was the abode.
As sky begins
raining
in sheets
the thunder crackling,
and laughing
striking a fire
quickly extinguished
by waves of water
from the same sky
that brought
the fire
years ago.
10/20/10
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