Fire Season

I think of you and a crow
charges out of a spruce tree
screeching black exclamations
into a suddenly windy evening.

Smoke from fires in high
forests is settling into
this valley. The smell of it
insinuates into all our

corners. Everything has been
hazy all day. As the sun
falls, the dimming sky turns
red and grey over the burning

mountains. Down here
the wind is chilly. Birches
wave their frilly arms with
dry, flammable noises.

I think of you and a crow
charges out of a spruce tree
screeching black exclamations
into a suddenly windy evening.

Smoke from fires in high
forests is settling into
this valley. The smell of it
insinuates into all our

corners. Everything has been
hazy all day. As the sun
falls, the dimming sky turns
red and grey over the burning

mountains. Down here
the wind is chilly. Birches
wave their frilly arms with
dry, flammable noises.

Comments

[Dave]

Another great poem - though I sense that it might not be done with you quite yet. Suddenly the burning no longer seems so far away.

[Jess D'Zerts]

Oh!

[SB]

This is actually a poem from some years ago, but seems timely and fills a blank-posting day. It's a good idea for me to post abandoned poems now and then, anyway, for the second look that sometimes leads to improvements.

[Pearl]

I don't know where you'd improve it. I thought I'd like the opening stanza best but then the second wowed me but the end was stunningly accurate and dextrous too.