Night Train

All night the fires burned in the fields
along the tracks west of the village.
Her window glowed, a sullen, bloody red
and she kneeled at the sill as if in prayer
to watch the wind lift the flames
fringed with sparks dancing
in the dark sky, jittery stars that died
and fell back to earth, black flakes.
The silhouettes of the men, her father
and others, walked through this hell
beating at the spreading threat
with jackets, spades and feet. One danced
out of sight, his cuffs alight.
The shouts of the men reached her
and the scent of the burn caught her throat
so that she couldn't stifle a cough.
She was bundled to bed by her clucking mother
to wait for the morning train to spit embers
at her world once more.