feral shine
turpentine
in the silver night
under heaven's light
she pours
she spills
amongst Adironacks hills
a spark a blaze
smolder then flame, the haze
she adores
it's the burning season
and there is a ban
she never saw no reason
to restrict fire from the man
in a time with no time to fallow
with only rules and laws to follow
to the night the farmers' trust the burn
then when charred the field will churn
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
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