Rats scurry across the road, trying to get away from the fire. Egrets swoop down to feast on worms. The rising smoke twists and turns in the air, changing from brown to gray, looking like rain clouds. The burning cane crackles like firecrackers or microwave popcorn, exploding in red-orange sparks. The flames crackle and crunch, anxious to burn the cane.
Flames jump from stalk to stalk, hiding behind the smoke and burning the stalks to a crisp.
The ashes rustle in the wind and land like soft feathers. The field is now empty and black, with only flickering flames, popping up here and there, playing hide and seek. Trucks lumber like elephants, carrying loads of black cane from the wide, black, deserted fields, leaving us thinking how good it will be to taste that sweet sugar, melting in our mouth. The cane trucks rumble into the sugar mill and unload black stalks onto the conveyor belt. Giant bright blue molasses barrels are piled up like toy blocks.