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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Experience · #2202884
The day we set the field on fire.
We mistakenly crossed a fence;
that was our bad—we should
have known better.

Not a real fence; a fence
of common sense, a
fence in disrepair

because of us, 

two boys with Dad
toting a 45 automatic
with tracer bullets…mini
flares that arc out and up
after the bullet strikes a target;
in our case, tin cans on a rock ledge. 

August, dry, and blazing heat with a
field of high, dry grass.  Yet how were
we to know we’d set the field afire? 
A wildfire requiring the county
volunteer fire department
to fight it, with we boys
helping by beating
the flames with
our shirts. 

Dad slumped in anxiety
after the fire was controlled;
brother Dave and I were both
shirtless on the drive home, and
I noticed a red leaf stuck to the heel
of my shoe.  Some road trip this, on the
other side of the lake, a target shooting
outing turned conflagration. 

Crossing a common sense fence;
it was not too high for us that
day.  And my brother and I…
two shirts ruined—but that
was inconsequential.

35 Lines 
Writer’s Cramp 

--a fence in disrepair
--red leaf
--road trip
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2202884