Firestorm

Drag across the sandy ground
between palmetto bush and scrub
beat down by heat and acid cinder,
falling, falling all around.

Run and run to water seeking
lakes or ponds and streams are rare
through the haze and filtered sunlight
while the air is pained and reeking.

Cry the children of the forest
blackened as a scourge passes
leave and leaves are turned to dust,
view disaster's visage poorest.

Not a drop of rain to brighten
weeks of ash fall in the air
search the sky for heavy laden
clouds and lightning sparks and frighten.

Grubbing for a green sprig growing
every step's a puff of smoke
saddened eyes are red and watered
senses burned and burned with knowing.

Rare and cool a friendly breeze
carries on it's wings a message
forebears heavy liquid changes
wrestled from the lakes and seas.

Finally ending, sands still gritty
mixed with ash and acrid waste
feed the charred and heated seedlings
push up green and fresh and pretty.

Though the feel is peaceful greeting
growth is hard and healing slow
feeding soils help but passes,
respites seasons are but fleeting.

Still the year of fire can lead
to a year of rain and cloud
so dry dust can be redeemed
in verdant growth of nature's greed.





06/30/98

by martin elbin

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