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