The fire cut a twelve foot hole in the 27 inches of snow,
15 sled loads,
a lifetime of rugs,
of broken picture frames.
Each item sends up sparks of prayer,
carrying an “I’m sorry”
into the embrace of bare maple branches.
I can only promise to honor the lives
who created the buildings on our new land,
to walk the trails they cut
and with a promise to care-take well.