Cornish Fire, From A Distance

Alerted by a sudden message crackling
through branches baked by summer,
the village stirred and distant sirens raced
towards something terribly alive across the fields,
something concealed but alarmed in the dark.

We raced to where a lively sunset flickered,
Red sky at night meant some kind of calamity.
We were children thrilled by the strangeness of grown ups
at once grown serious, drawn to flames, their faces
glowing grimly in that unseasonable bonfire light.

We later learned of casualties
and learned how lowered voices made things darker
once the fire had died, and how a hole could fill
a place where a house had been,
and how quickly childhood can take on other tones.