Smoke

rain today, so they burned the trees. all day, great plumes of smoke rose from the pile, enveloping both of the houses to our south throughout the day, but the wind kept it from ours. flames only appeared now and then. it burned in sections, and was never the mound of flames i had envisioned.

night sit.

rain. dark. put the boy in his sling and covered him with the blanket my mother made for him, resting it over his head like a hood, tucked down under his feet, all around him. intended to go to my sit spot, but strolled over to the brush pile on the way and stayed there. came as close as we could to the fire without stepping into the mud of the new road. the boy gazed at the smoke and the flames, transfixed, silent, for almost fifteen minutes.

it was so rich, standing there in the dark and the wind and the rain, hearing the pelt of raindrops on the earth, on the ribbon-edge of his blanket, the fire echoing the sound in its crackle, the smoke billowing out, forming infinite patterns as the wind caught and played with it, twisting and turning, making it rise and then spill down upon the living trees near it. sometimes is would turn back upon itself, then dissipate into clear darkness. dark pile of broken branches and roots, dark trees beyond, glowing orange flames, smoke, gray and white, dancing around it all.

from where we stood, i could only see one small area in flame. another burned on the far side of the pile; when the smoke danced down around it, it silhouetted the outline of the pile so that i could see how the branches protruded from the top, how the pile itself appeared woven of branches. it came to me suddenly that the burning brush pile was a sweat lodge: the area in flame was the low, arched entry. the smoke rising up, swirling around it, dancing up to the sky, was the prayers. the small flames that flickered here and there were the songs swelling from inside. the sparks rising were the laughter of the women, the joy and glee of the sacred space. i talked to my son about it, told him of the sacredness of the fire, the smoke, how they teach us.