Forest Fire
Nocturnal winds of breeze, in the darkness of the night,
Unwavering air upon the stillness of a breath with a gifted kind of sight.
Blow your cold white frost, unto the frozen ground,
And lie in cold, cold sands till lost, and wonder round and round.
A note perchance, all stained with blood.
Atop the tallest greenest tree.
It perches there amongst the birds,
For everyone to take a read.
The message long, the words are true,
In sky’s of smoke, and midnight blue.
Stay amongst the burning fires,
The winds sharp whistle feeds it true.
Keeping out all outsiders.
Who cut down what once did grow,
Within the winds that here bestow.
That wrought the note there, row by row.
To pass it on, it’s message told at birth.
That these fires burn hot, as nature kneels, upon this earth.
The forest dead, within still birth.
Has idled by and took my hand.
And fled me from this charcoaled land.
From sky to floor, the trees all gone.
Nor natures dead and in its bloom.
A hell on earth, it’s very worth,
Begins the cycle, again anew.