POEM 04

Scorched, massive wooden bodies, tall, majestic like the Cedars of Lebanon. No match for fire though. Fed by the slightest breeze it comes red and filled with smoke

Bulging like a mushroom cloud, a blazing tongue lapping up the distance, tearing through valleys with crimson destruction, crossing canyons and scaling hills and

Mountains veiled in a gray and white fog that chokes the sight and breath of everything it approaches, sending wildlife,  any life scurrying for cover.

On some Sumatran highland or the like, it blazes through the planets oldest tropical forest. A lightening spark set dry brush smoldering; pleasant winds produced the

flame and set the blaze that scorched the beauty and scarred the face.