Had a great time tonight burning a big pile of buckthorn. In the spring and summer it's pocket gophers, in the winter it's buckthorn. So this fire is a minor victory in an ongoing campaign against the invading aliens (X-Files, anyone?). The fun, however, is watching the "sparks released by firelight / sail on vapors overhead / while I turn wearily to bed," with a huge expanse of stars spanning from horizon to treeline and the Milky Way like a bright pathway through the middle of it all.
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