Threat

The threat changes when the wind changes.

Low, moderate,

Now high.

First sign, a flicker going nowhere,

Now a raging blaze.

Out the window, over the prominence, 

it keeps throwing shards of itself forward.

I can feel the heat

 - its anger -

 closing in with the savageness of a Viking.

It has the sound of a thousand rioters.

Tears drop as tyres screech,

A blackened, parched house falls behind.

Swallowed up by the beast that races, 

Chasing the transportation life-saver.

Through the grey mist that is arid, not damp; stinging, not nipping.

A swerve, a jerk, a gasp; a blackened body slumped on the side of the road makes tears.

Through the smog, a community safe haven.