The smoldering fire
catches a stray leaf
and spreads
like a virus,
persistent and deadly.
The grass,
dry from decades
of inattention
ignites in an instant,
consuming everything.
The terrain
returns once again
to smoldering.
The ash
blows
in
my face.
2 comments:
Wow, but remember ... new life comes. Without pruning (and this means fires too, ask the forests), we would not grow.
True. Very true. Thanks!
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