22. Nature
At first
All I see is
The grey ash,
Its fine powder dark and dusty
Below the charred black bark
Of once proud eucalypts
Now naked,
Leaves vanished
In a furious inferno,
A howling firestorm
Of hungry flames
And swirling embers;
Consuming, capricious, and catastrophic.
Grey ash,
And scarred stumps,
Black and grey,
Charred and cindered;
Grey ash,
Dusty and dead.
But then—
Luminous against the grey—
A tiny, impossible green;
Tentative yet defiant,
Sign of life.
May 23rd, 2013 | Category: Poems | Leave a comment
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