Ash

The ash piled thick in nooks,
on brick, on ledges, dusting driveway and carport, sifting through a bedroom window cracked open on a warm night.

Finger swipe, a gray-black smudge - this was a pine two days ago.

This grit? An 80 year-old barn, smelling of hay and horse.

This smear? Wood cabin retirement dream beside a clear mountain stream.

Whose lives forever changed in this sweep of flame?

At whose feet do we lay the blame?