A Trace Of October

At the end of a long drive
In Western Virginia
He crossed the white line
With a glass in his hand
Catawba Mountain
Kind of late in the summer
Coming home from a friend's home
Is where he had been

All the folks in their houses
Left their windows wide open
For sometimes in summer
There's a chill on the wind
Just a taste of the first snow
Just a trace of October
Blowing down the Blue Ridge
Take the heat from your skin

Came a screeching of tires
Came a crash and glass flying
Came a crumpling of steel
And the sounds from within
Then a terrible quiet
That stillness which follows
One hot August night
Was all that blew in

Oh they ran from their houses
Down to the inferno
They pulled his limp body
From the glass and the steel
Burning quick as dry kindling
Glowing hot like an ember
Twisted 'round like a can
Crushed under your heel

There was death all around
In the smoldering stillness
In the flickering flames
'Til they withered and died
Just the far away scream
Of a distant patrol car
Was all that blew in
One hot Summer night

It's a curious thing
In the eye of beholding
It's a message from God
It's a lesson for man
One hot August night
Came a trace of October
In the smoldering ruin
Stood the glass from his hand 

(in memory of my younger brother, Charles H. Pruett, III Octber 10, 1952 - Auguest 14, 1987)


--©1997 Betty Elders/ Whistling Pig Music (ASCAP) administered by BUG Music
All rights reserved.

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