Framed
Poem by Nils Peterson: Fire Engine
I remember my father following
a fire engine to a great blaze. Early
winter dark. Black shadows of men
and truck fiercely case. We parked
at a distance, I think a tenement
aflame, and i think they all got out.
We watched the old wood burn
hot and high against the black sky
as the firemen aimed futile hoses.
Some fires must burn themselves out.
This was three quarters of a century
ago. Coals still burn in those ashes.