Fire cleanses the ranger

Every forest needs a fire
To prune the excess

A ranger comes down the hill
Choking a hose
Arcing it heroically

The cabin just stood there, aflame
No one was screaming within
No signs of hysteria
Of impending grace
They’ll be rewarded in…
…But he couldn’t worry about that

Hoses could only stretch so far
That was a legitimate thing to worry about
As the feral flames rose majestically to the sky
Maybe the stream would provide solace
Stave off grace for a little while

And so he went to the river
And returned to a husk being consumed by fire
Nothing to worry about
Except the family members of ghosts

Rangers didn’t have the finesse of surgeons
Nor the masks that hid sincerity
Or even the prestige that gave them a noble air
What did rangers have that would offer security
To those being spoken to?

But sometimes sentinels of the wild need a bit of calamity
In order to wake them up
Shoving them into the real world
Injecting authenticity back into the urban centers
Enduring the wails of broken hearts
Shaking the hands of mayors
Whatever was necessary

Proving that
Pine trees, mountains, even raccoons
Gave a ranger a peculiar grace
Not necessarily inferior to the surgeon’s
Just peculiar.

Symbiosis

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