Tanka on Fire || 63/365 - 65/365

A mile from the house
fields are burning, spewing out
dense ash, as grass burns—
we watch a column of smoke
stretch over the horizon.
•
A yellow moon
echoes the pale front porch light—
but not even this
is strong enough to console me
as brush fires motion closer.
•
Ash drifts in the yard,
falling from nearby brush fires—
too close for comfort.
The air, heavy with silence,
hums with a strange emphasis.