#263: Death trip

tonight
having emptied the ashes
from the wood stove
with one or two dying coals
into the fire pit


I see at the top of the rise
against the tree-line
the folding chair
aluminum with nylon bands
(I believe it was Karen's)
turned to face the sunset
now glowing blue


and through the thick of the trees
comes echoing
a dog howling and barking
savagely
but far away
the glowing lawn chair


blue, and now in its glow deepening
expanding
exceeding its shape
on the hill, unmoved


while the barking grows more savage
and more distant still
even though
it is I who am retreating