Dancing Tongue of Flame
Early autumn in Central Texas rarely brings relief from the summer heat. Dog days that boil over 100 degrees are not uncommon and burn long after the sun sinks below the horizon. Evening light scorches across the sky and hot breezes thrash the tops of the fall canopy causing a scene hellish and awesome: a maddening cacophony of erratically flickering tapered branches and shimmering leaves. The branch that gave timber for this instrument fell during just such a withering squall, one last moment to rejoice as a dancing tongue of flame.
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