"Tonight I stood around a slow burning fire with my brother and our dad. The backyard in which I grew up in was quiet. Looking up, following the swirling smoke, the sky was aglow from the big city lights to the south. The burning wood scraps offered a subtle heat, the rest of me being warmed by my down vest with one cold hand from holding an iced beverage.
I thought back to the fires I would have on decent fall nights outside the cabin in Govy. The freshly split fir from stacked rows in the basement burned quickly on an overturned garbage can lid in the driveway. On those nights, the neighborhood was quiet too but the only brightness in the sky came naturally."
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