Fire Poem by Devin Iven

The crackle of disintegrated timber.

The glistening of the trees.

The deeming end of winter.

Life vanquished on a breeze.

The immaculate display it has

Of consuming by the whip.

The sound we seem to pray for,

Is just a little drip.

The crashing roaring thunder.

The awe that struck us dumb.

The lick of the orange beast

Like a hissing serpents tongue.

The glorious sound of sirens.

We called them long ago.

But our saviors, arrive too late.

We watched our lives burn low.