Hot, too intense to emerge 

But you're safe within, learning 

The pines hang low: aching, old, dry, slow 

Yearning to become light, to flash 

Before leaving cold and greying ash 

Red and gold explode from gnarled skin, burning 

Stirred 

You fall! Fall in pinecones like grenades 

To burst across the forest floor in waves 

You fly 

The first thing you see… 

Armies that are prepared to die, 

Keeping someone else alive 

They love their children 

Trunks so old they block the light 

Burn away, escape into sky, hoping 

Making it open 

For the saplings, newly groping 

Upward 

Gold flame foretells yellow sun 

Red seeds foretell brown earth 

Death is erupting, life begun 

A forest fire is second birth