The Fire

I look at the photograph.
And I remember the smoke.
And I see the flames consuming the hills.
Our rolling and gentle hills were covered,
With every shade of red, orange and yellow.
Fire storms raged with the speed of the wind.
Wild life fled and ran, and some were trapped,
Left alone, to quiver, and wonder, and finally expire.
The air was thick with the smell of burning nature.
And the ash lands and lays a blanket on our world.
The sun sets and the effects are stunning, awesome,
But very sobering when you know, the breathtaking sunset today,
Had it's very birth, in the mass destruction and death of the fires.
Sometimes it's nature unleashed, sometimes it's a man's demons.
But it is always, death, destruction and finally, rebirth and reconstruction.
And always a reminder, what we have today,
Could be gone tomorrow, in the blink of an eye.
I lay the photograph down, and I cry…
5/6/2004