Bushfire

A soft red glow, suffocating

A warmth too hot approached.

She didn’t creep. She lept. 

– Those parched whistled as they fell,

A last harmony hung in the grey,

Like a bottomless pit, she hungered,

Hungered on those tall and helpless standing.

The whistles grew louder, 

The horizon grew bleak. 

I’ll never forget those weeks 

— for a pain so bright brings scars.

My heart, 

               Only now mended,

In the past, my bark was a flimsy guard.