Of Course, the Horses Regrettably
Of course, the horses (regrettably)
screamed. An animal’s natural
reaction when trapped in flames.
But the cows, chewing cud
on their knees were (eerily) silent.
A barn owl flew out from the fire
like a god or devil. Mice streamed
from the crackling structure
like a river, flooding the field
with their bodies. The conflagration lit up
the night like candles on a cake. Happy
birth day to me. I opened my eyes.
I uttered my wish out loud. It only took
a single match and a lot of hay and dry
spell that lasted forever. The stars
that have always seemed too far
away were smoke-obliterated. Calm,
untouched and clean, the moon
hanging above it all, nodded. As I surveyed
the wet, smoldering beams, what anyone
else would label damage, I shielded
my eyes from the irrevocable brightness.